The Visitor
by cornpony
Summary: While Turbo is serving his prison sentence in the Sugar Rush dungeon, he is visited by a certain Good Guy. Will old flames rekindle? Post-Cybug incident 80's boyfriends (Felix/Turbo).
1. Chapter 1

It was better than he deserved, he supposed…but that still didn't make it any less boring.

Turbo sat with his back against the cool stone of the dungeon. Currently, he was attempting to flick playing cards into his helmet propped against the wall opposite him. He was getting decent at it, but a shower of red and black still littered the floor.

_Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip._

"Ooh!" Turbo shouted, leaning forward. "Got one."

_Fwip. Fwip. Fwip._

He'd long since stopped calling it a "fungeon." He discovered quickly that it was no fun at all.

When Turbo saw the door to his cell swinging open, he thought he was hallucinating. But when Wynchel and Duncan, the two donut guards, came bumbling in, he began to suspect otherwise.

"On your feet, prisoner," Wynchel said, brandishing his police baton.

"And face the wall," Duncan added, he, too, ready to bash Turbo in the head with his baton if need be.

Turbo remained where he was seated. He placed the remainder of his deck of cards beside him. "What, am I being let out early on good behavior?" He smiled sweetly.

Wynchel and Duncan exchanged "get a load o' this guy" looks and snickered.

"In your dreams, maybe," Duncan said. "Now do like we ask, or you ain't gonna get to see your visitor."

That caught Turbo's attention. Still, though, he wasn't too hopeful. He figured this was all just a practical joke.

"Okay, guys, ya got me there for a second," Turbo snickered. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a rousing game of card-in-the-helmet to continue."

Wynchel and Duncan started walking towards him, slapping their batons into their palms.

"I'm gonna give you till the count of three," Wynchel said, "before I take ol Bessie here and pound your stupid gray head flat as a pancake. One—"

"Awright, awright!" Turbo said, scrambling to his feet. "I'm up, I'm up! Geez, Louise…"

"Turn around," Duncan drawled.

The racer sighed dramatically, but he did as he was told. "What now? Hands behind my back?"

"Yep," the donut guards said in unison.

"Aw, what? I was just kid—_ow_! What was that for?" Turbo rubbed the back of his head where he'd just been smacked.

"For your back-sass," Wynchel said. "Now, hands behind your back."

Turbo grumbled, but he did as he was told. He felt a pair of cool metal handcuffs squeeze shut against his wrists. He made a move to turn around, but Duncan ground his baton into the middle of the racer's back.

"Not yet, wise guy," Duncan said. "Feet together."

Turbo was about to open his mouth to protest, but why bother at that point, really? He touched his sneakers together. A heavy shackle was snapped around each ankle. There was enough chain between the leg cuffs to walk, but not much else. He definitely wouldn't be running anywhere.

"Face forward," Duncan said. Turbo shuffled around.

"Now, let's get one thing straight," Wynchel said. "President Vanellope, for whatever reason, seems to think you and your visitor need a little privacy. But believe you me, we'll be standing guard right outside your cell. If we so much as hear a peep outta you, you won't be having any more visitors for a long, long time."

"And by long time," Duncan said, "he means never again. We clear?"

"Crystal," Turbo said.

"Alright," Wynchel said. The two ambled through the doorway. "We'll send 'em in."

The door to Turbo's cell remained open a crack, but no one entered. He exhaled deeply. For a second, there, he had actually hoped somebody might be coming to see him. But it was clear to him now: the point of all this was either to entice him to try and run, which would get him in more trouble than he was already in, or to fill him with false hope. He imagined it was the latter.

He was staring at the ground when the door eased its way open. He didn't bother looking up. Those stupid donuts had gone and depressed him, now. He pursed his lips.

"Ya got me," he said, staring at the tips of his shoes. "It was a laugh. Ha-ha. Now couldja at least undo these handcuffs now? They're a little on the snug side."

"Turbo?" came a meek little voice—a voice which definitely did not belong to Wynchel or Duncan.

His entire body went rigid and cold. He thought he might pass out. Surely he hadn't heard…nah. He'd just been in this cell too long, that was all. He was getting cabin fever. He…

He was afraid to look up, but he knew he had to. So he did.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the golden hammer notched into his visitor's utility belt, glowing ever-so-faintly. He forced himself to meet his visitor's eyes.

How long had it been since he'd locked eyes with Fix-it Felix, Jr.? Thirty years, give or a take a few? Even though it had been so long, everything came rushing back like it was just the other day. A wave of nostalgia came crashing over him so strongly that he wanted to puke. Turbo felt like someone had just dumped a pitcher of ice water directly into his stomach.

"Felix," Turbo said stupidly.

Felix wouldn't look him in the eye; the handyman's gaze wandered over to the smattering of cards surrounding Turbo's upturned helmet.

"Hope you don't mind me, ah…stopping by," Felix said.

Turbo swallowed. He tried his best to muster some bravado from deep inside himself. He started tittering to himself, a nervous tic he'd always had. And it just went downhill from there.

"Eheh…nah…heh heh…I mean…I just can't even believe you're here," he said. He winced. Why the hell did he say that? Why, why, why?

"It took me awhile to build up the nerve to come down here," Felix admitted. "I didn't know…how you would be."

The racer figured he knew what Felix meant by that statement. He could mean physically—would he look like King Candy? That creepy bug-thing? Or would he look like his old self? And then there was also the uncertainty of what his mental state would be like…Turbo _did _feel his sanity slipping away near the end, there. Felix could've meant a lot of things by saying that, none of which were any better than the one before it.

"Can't blame ya there," Turbo sighed.

Felix looked at him. He didn't look mad—he almost never did, Turbo remembered—just troubled. Troubled and a little sad.

"Could I ask you something?" Felix said.

_Shit_, Turbo thought. His face burned.

After the first year of hiding behind the altered code of King Candy, Turbo had pretty much lost all hope that he'd ever see Felix again. It just couldn't happen, lest his cover be blown. But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't spent many a sleepless night imagining this very conversation that was no doubt about to transpire. The Big Talk. The "Try and Explain to Felix Why I'm a Dumbass" Talk. But it was a very different scenario when Felix was actually standing in front of him.

There was no way to avoid it now. He couldn't even run away, if he was so inclined—he was literally in chains.

He took a deep breath. "Go ahead," Turbo said slowly.

"Well, there are actually lots of questions I've had on my mind for…well, for a while now," Felix said. Felix gestured toward the stone floor. "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

Only Felix would ask permission to sit on a prison floor. Turbo smiled, but there was no happiness in the gesture.

"Course I don't mind," Turbo tittered. There he went again with the nervous snickers. He bit his lip to try and stifle them. "But you're probably more comfy standin up, y'know."

Felix sat crisscross-applesauce on the floor. He let his hands rest on his knees, looking up at Turbo expectantly.

"Don'tcha want to get a little more comfortable, there?"

Turbo opened his mouth to say some sort of snarky retort, but he thought better of it. He slid down the wall and jutted his legs out in front of him—as well as he could, anyway.

_Not much better, honestly,_ Turbo thought. But the man in front of him looked more relaxed, at least. He supposed he wouldn't want someone looming over the top of him while trying to talk to them, either.

"Awright," Turbo said, steeling himself. "Go ahead and ask the first question."

"Why didn't you tell me before you game-jumped?"

The question flew out of Felix's mouth so quickly that Turbo was taken aback. He assumed they'd work their way up to the harder questions. A lump formed in his throat. He opened his mouth to attempt to answer, but Felix interjected something else.

"We saw each other the night before you did it," Felix said. "Do you remember that?"

Turbo didn't have to think about the answer.

"Yeah. I definitely remember."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

Turbo leaned forward.

"Because you would've tried to stop me."

"Exactly!" Felix threw his hands in the air. It was a rare moment to see Felix angry. Turbo could count on a hand how many times he'd seen it, and it didn't get any easier to watch with time. It still gave him a shameful feeling, even now. Especially now.

Felix pointed his finger at Turbo. "You—! You could've _talked_ to me about it! About wanting to—!"

The handyman was getting flustered. Anger takes a lot out of a person who isn't used to dealing with the emotion.

"Did you not trust me enough?" Felix's voice cracked.

Felix might as well have plunged a knife into Turbo's gut and twisted it around.

"Of course I trusted you, ya know I did! Aside from my brothers, you were…the only other person I _did _trust."

Felix's eyes widened. "And that's another thing! Your brothers. How…how could you?"

"How could I wha—oh," Turbo said.

"Huh?"

Felix must not have known. How could he have known? Turbo couldn't look Felix in the eye anymore. He couldn't bear the look he was about to get.

"It's a long story. I mean, a _really _long story."

"I hate to say this, but you aren't doing that great of a job answering my questions," Felix huffed. "You're just making me think of more, quite honestly."

"I know," Turbo said, crestfallen. "But…I mean…it ain't like I'm going anywhere. I could…I mean, I could definitely tell you the story, if you wanna hear it. If it'd…if it'd help."

Felix placed an elbow on either knee and rested his face in his palms. "Then let's start from the beginning."

Turbo winced. He didn't want to recount this story, as it wasn't a very happy one, nor was it something he was particularly proud of. But if there was anyone who deserved to hear it—if there was anyone he owed it to—it was Felix.

"You're gonna be here awhile."

"That's okay."

"'Kay, then. Let's see, where to start…ah. I know."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I've got a couple more chapters of this written up, but they're still in the proofreading stages. I want to make sure they're exactly how I want em before I add them on. Anyway, if you've made it all the way here, thanks for reading the first chapter! You are a really nice and cool person and I'm giving you a thumbs-up right now.


	2. Chapter 2

The weather never changed in the Turbo Time cabinet. It was always a balmy summer day, the wind coming and going in lazy waves, gently stroking the palm trees and shrubs.

After closing time, Turbo loved to lounge on the highest bleacher and stare out the cabinet glass. From where his game was positioned, he could see the street outside. The people bustling on the sidewalk were interesting, in a way, but what he liked the most was to look at the cars zoom past. Almost all of them had tops, though, which he couldn't really understand. What would be the fun in that?

He watched as a sharp red sports car—a Camaro, no doubt—idled near the sidewalk. The passenger window rolled down, and the driver beckoned to someone out of Turbo's line of vision. A girl with a wild perm trotted up to the car and leaned in.

Turbo was mildly intrigued by the scene until he heard the arcade telephone ring. Usually when it rang after-hours, it was prank calls from little kids. That was always good for a laugh. He leaned an ear toward the glass.

It rang five times, and when no one picked up, the answering machine took over. Mr. Litwak's recorded voice explained that the store was closed, recited the store hours, and promised to return the call at his earliest convenience. There was a pause, a loud beep, and a gruff man's voice left his message.

"Yeah, Mr. Litwak? This is Jerry, from across the street. Just wanted ta let ya know I'm still interested in that game you were wantin to sell. That Turbo-whatever one? The one with the steering wheel? The sooner the better. So if you could get back to me as soon as you can, that'd be great. My number is…" The gruff male voice left his contact information and hung up. The machine beeped again in response.

The palm fronds rattled in the wind like tiny little bones.

Turbo sat up. He could feel his chest tightening. He had to move. Somewhere, anywhere. He hopped down the bleachers two at a time and vaulted over the guard rail. He ran toward his kart, his baby, his love, his bread n butter. He scrambled in, turning the key so hard his engine growled in protest.

"Shit shit shit," he muttered, hands shaking. He was going to flood the engine if he wasn't careful. He turned the key more gingerly this time. The engine purred to life. He slammed the accelerator down to the floorboard, pealing off in a cloud of dust and pebbles.

"_How can he not want us_?" Turbo screamed into the wind. "_How can he not want _me?"

It was that damn RoadBlasters game. Kids and adults alike couldn't believe the cutting-edge graphics, all 16 bits of it. One by one, they'd walk past Turbo Time, glancing indifferently at it. They all lined up to play RoadBlasters instead.

It made Turbo sick to his stomach.

Turbo steered angrily around the track, slamming over hills, drifting in dramatic arcs around the curves. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that he'd lost all feeling in his hands.

"_Doesn't he know I'm the greatest racer evah?_" he screamed. "_Doesn't he know I'm Turbo-fuckin-tastic?_"

He didn't even bother crossing the finish line. Instead, he wrenched the steering wheel off to the left, barreling down the well-worn path to the house where he and his older twin brothers, Axel and Rally, lived.

He flung himself through the front door. A bead of sweat trickled from his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. He took off his helmet and let it fall to the ground, wiping at his face with the back of his sleeve.

"What's got your panties in a knot?" Axel said. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, nursing a can of soda. His blue racing suit was covered in dirt; the white stripe running down the middle was white no longer.

"Is it Felix again?" Axel smirked.

Turbo froze. In his fury he'd forgotten about Felix. But thinking about_ that_ would just have to wait.

"You're starting to worry me, little bro," Axel said. He furrowed his brows. "What gives?"

"Where's Rally?" Turbo stammered. "I don't wanna have to tell this twice."

Axel fetched his twin, and the three siblings had a pow-wow in the kitchen. Turbo recited the events as best he could remember. The twins both looked skeptical.

"Well, maybe that's not what the guy meant, exactly," Rally said.

"What the hell else could it have meant?" Turbo spat. "He clearly said Litwak was _selling _this game and he's interested in _buying _it as soon as possible. I heard it with my own two ears."

"Well, maybe—maybe…" Rally didn't know what to say. He averted his eyes to the floor.

"Don't get all angry when I say this," Axel said, "but sometimes you're not the best of listeners, Turbo. Maybe you didn't hear it all, or you heard it wrong, or something."

Turbo was about to spit a retort to this statement when he thought of something. "You know what? Litwak always plays his answering machine messages in the morning, right? Tomorrow morning, you guys can hear it for yourselves."

The twins exchanged worried looks. They nodded.

**{*}**

"So, Mr. Litwak was going to _sell_ your game?" Felix said with more than just a little doubt in his tone. "I'm sorry, Turbo, but that just sounds like…_well_…"

"A lie?" Turbo finished for him.

"Well…yes, kind of," he said.

"We hadn't been making any money in a long time," Turbo said darkly. "Games have their ups and downs, y'know, but we…we were experiencing something completely different. We just…" Turbo shrugged. "Weren't cool anymore."

"But there are lots of games in the arcade that withstand the tests of time," Felix said. "There've been tons of times when Fix-it Felix, Jr. wasn't so popular. But we're still here."

"You don't get it," Turbo said. "Your game has a niche. Even if you try to copy it, there'll always be somethin about your game that you can't really duplicate. My game, on the other hand…" he sighed. "Our big thing was the steering wheel control—instead of a joystick, y'know. Other than that, it was a pretty damn basic game.

Don't get me wrong, I loved Turbo Time and I miss it more than—" he sighed. He waved his hands, as if he were clearing his words out from in front of him. "Anyway, my point is, we were old news when RoadBlasters came along. There was no need for us anymore. There was a new racing game in the arcade, and that was that. We were expendable."

Felix did have to admit that the chances of there being another fixing game like his coming to the arcade were considerably low. He had competition, of course, with games that had better graphics…but not with games that had similar gameplay. He had no idea how his console would fare if that were to happen. Games came and went…and, now that he thought about it, they were usually replaced by a similar, yet newer, game.

"Just lemme finish the story, here," Turbo said, breaking the silence. "And you can think about it while I'm tellin it. But I'm tellin you—hey, look at me for a sec."

Felix looked at him.

"I'm not lyin, okay?" Turbo said. There was a touch of tenderness in his voice, almost impossible to catch, yet Felix heard it just fine. "I'm rotting away in a jail cell, here. I have no reason to lie to ya. Okay?"

The handyman averted his gaze, instead deciding to become very interested in a divot in the chocolate-covered wall just to the right of Turbo's head.

"Hey, look at me."

Felix looked at him.

"…Okay?"

Felix sighed. "Okay."

"Good," Turbo said. "Now, of course Axel and Rally didn't believe me, so…"

**{*}**

The next morning, the twins heard the message loud and clear. But since Litwak was present, they couldn't break character. They had to putter in their karts all day on the idle screen like nothing was wrong. As soon as they heard the all-clear signal, a musical ditty from the Pac-Man cabinet, the twins collapsed onto the winner's podium.

"Aw, Turbo," Rally wailed. He buried his face in his hands. "You were right. Litwak really doesn't want us anymore."

"Guys, what're…what're we gonna _do_?" Axel said. "As soon as our game gets unplugged, we're, like…gone. Literally gone."

Turbo had a faraway look in his eye.

"There's nothing we _can_ do," Rally said. "Except move out to Game Central Station. I mean…I guess we're gonna have to, if we wanna…stay alive."

The three of them looked out at the Turbo Time scenery: the racetrack, their karts, the palm trees, their square little house. It wasn't much, but it was theirs. And it was all they knew.

"Racing's in our code," Axel muttered. "It's gonna be really hard…to live without it."

_But maybe we don't have to live without it_, Turbo thought. A plan started to form in his head.

"I think I might have an idea," Turbo said quietly.

"Huh?" Axel said.

Turbo frowned. "I said, I think I might have an idea."

"An idea for what?" Rally said.

"For keeping our game plugged in."

"And how," Axel said, "would you ever manage that? Obviously Litwak wants to sell us cause he'd make more money that way, instead of keeping us plugged in. Y'know, wasting the space and the electricity and everything. The only way he'd even _think _about keeping us is if…our game started making money again…" Axel trailed off, deep in thought.

"RoadBlasters," Rally blurted.

"Exactly," Turbo said gravely. "It's gotta go."

"But how?" the twins said in unison.

Turbo grimaced. He thought he knew exactly how.

**{*}**

The plan was an extremely complicated one, and in all likelihood, it would not work. But it was the only little thread of hope that the three brothers had in order to try to save their home.

In a nutshell, Turbo was going to sabotage the RoadBlasters game. He knew a little bit about game code—not much, but a little—and he was pretty confident in his ability to make the other game glitch.

But there were two large caveats to this plan. First of all, RoadBlasters would have to be in play for this to work. Secondly, Turbo would have to enter the game quickly—_very _quickly—and cause a direct disruption to the Player One code. The timing would have to be exactly perfect in order for the game to glitch.

And Turbo knew that the likelihood of their _own _game glitching while he was absent was high. All someone would have to do was stick a quarter in, curious as to why he was missing from the idle screen, and Turbo Time was almost certain to glitch as well.

That was the very reason why Axel and Rally couldn't be in their own game while all this was going on. It was entirely too risky. They were hiding out at the rendezvous point in Game Central Station until all of this was over.

With any luck, Litwak would notice the glitch in RoadBlasters and start fidgeting with it, possibly even placing an out-of-order sign over the glass. This would give Turbo and the twins just enough time to race back to their own game, safe and sound. Turbo Time would be the only racing game in the arcade, their popularity would come back to them, and they'd live happily ever after.

It was either try and pull all of that off, or become unplugged themselves, anyway.

Turbo turned his head and looked out the cabinet glass. Even this early in the morning, a small queue of people were crowded around RoadBlasters, gazing at the screen in awe. Turbo pursed his lips.

He turned the key in the ignition, and his kart fired to life.

"Well, Ruby Red," Turbo said, patting the hood. "We had a good run. I doubt you'll be comin back with me. But you never know…that guy in the blue hat that we took for all those rides? He can fix anything, didja know? If you can still wobble outta there with me, we can getcha patched up, no problem…"

But Turbo knew the likelihood of that was slim to none. He was banking on the hope that Felix could make him a new kart. He'd tinkered on Ruby Red enough, surely he could make another one…or at least something red and on four wheels. Turbo bit his lip.

He knew if he sat around and thought too much about it—especially if his thoughts drifted over to Felix for too long—that he'd have second thoughts. And there just wasn't any time left for second thoughts. Without another moment's hesitation, he shifted the kart into drive and sped off down the tram tunnel.

Had this not been a life-or-death situation, Turbo would've had to admit that driving through the tunnel was a damn good ride. The unexpected twists and turns, the dips and hills, it all kept him on his toes and really tested his driving ability. The tunnel felt a lot shorter when driving at breakneck speed rather than puttering along in the tram; it wasn't too long at all before he saw a light at the end. He held his breath as he shot out into Game Central Station.

The only saving grace in this entire ordeal was that the main hub of Game Central Station was almost completely devoid of people. The only characters present were a few straggling NPCs in no particular hurry to return to their games, their absence going unnoticed. Turbo didn't have to worry about driving around them. They all scrambled out of the way just fine.

The RoadBlasters tunnel was just a few entrances down from his own. He threw on the brakes and drifted a hard right into the tunnel.

The path to RoadBlasters was a little longer than the one he'd just driven, but not by a lot. Turbo didn't have much time to steel himself for what was about to happen. But that was probably a good thing. That way, he wouldn't have time to get nervous.

He emerged onto a blanket of green grass. He was vaguely aware of the intense heat within the game, the temperature being considerably more pleasant in his own. His eyes scanned the area for his target. Luckily, a bright red roadster much bigger than his own wasn't too hard to find. And even luckier, the car in question was headed right for him, so there was no need to chase it down.

Turbo smirked and licked his teeth. Perfect.

"_Turbo-tastic!_" he screamed, wrenching the wheel to the left. Whoever Player One was must've done the same, however; Turbo missed the RoadBlasters car by a hair. He figure-eighted in the grass to try again.

Now he was filled with a mad rage. "_Turbo-tastic!_" he yelled again as he sped off in a straight line, gaining ground quickly on his target.

And that time, he didn't miss.

**{*}**

"Oh my land," Felix said. He inhaled deeply. "That sure is a lot to take in."

Turbo nodded. "Yeah."

One could've cut the tension in the room with a butter knife. It was stifling. Felix pulled at his shirt collar.

"It must've been hard," Felix said. His voice seemed to permeate every inch of the cell. "To make that huge of a decision."

"It was," Turbo mumbled. "It really was."

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Wynchel and Duncan were just outside the cell door, talking back and forth in bored tones. Turbo let his head rest against the cool of the chocolate-covered stone behind him.

It was Turbo who finally broke the silence. "And y'know—y'know I never meant to…" his voice trailed off. He couldn't exactly put what he was thinking into words.

Felix rose to his feet. "I know."

He walked towards the racer. At first, Turbo thought he was going to hit him, or at least give him a good kick in the shin. He winced, bracing himself for the blow, but it never came. Felix reached out and grabbed Turbo by the armpits, hoisting him up into a standing position.

"I think that's good enough for today," Felix said. He smiled sadly.

"'For today'?" Turbo said.

"Well, sure. I've got a lot more I want you to clear up for me. But it can wait. Today was…well, I learned a lot."

Turbo could think of nothing to add to that. He just nodded.

Felix walked toward the cell door. He paused at the exit, looking back over his shoulder.

"I'll try and be back to visit as soon as I can."

"I'll be here."

Felix went out, and the two donut guards came in. They jostled and pushed Turbo about as they undid his bindings, being none too gentle about the process. But Turbo didn't feel any of it. The conversation he'd just had with Felix had left him numb. He was absolutely reeling.

He watched as Wynchel and Duncan left his cell, and vaguely registered the sound of many locks clicking into place. How he'd ended up in his strawberry wafer bunk, he wasn't sure, but he turned over to face the wall just the same. He had a lot of thinking of his own to do. And maybe some vomiting and crying, also. He wasn't entirely sure at the moment.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I could've broken this up into 2 separate chapters, I think, but I'm pretty sure it's fine as it is. I've got one more chapter already written up, but it's still being proofread. This chapter was a little difficult to write; sounds kinda stuffy, but I couldn't really wedge any humor into it without it being out of place. And thanks a big'un for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Felix put his hands up and felt of his cheeks. Even through his work gloves, he could still feel that they were warm. He was burning up with the honey glows. He sighed.

He always tried to see the good in everyone, but he wasn't stupid. It crossed his mind more than once that Turbo could be lying about everything he'd said. But he sounded so genuine…Felix just couldn't get over the fact that Turbo was telling the truth.

Turbo had always been a smooth talker, but he was never one to flat-out lie. Was he manipulative? Yes. But a liar? Felix wanted to say no. That's how he'd been before, anyway. And he _seemed_ to be much the same as he used to be.

…Didn't he?

The handyman was so deep in thought that he wasn't paying much attention to where he was walking. He collided with a blur of pink and brown and green.

The thing he'd run into wasn't a thing at all, but a person. Candlehead reeled backward, pinwheeling her arms in an attempt to regain reached out and grabbed her wrist, steadying her. Instead of being angry for nearly plowing her down, as Felix had expected, Candlehead giggled.

"Sorry," she said. "I was in la-la land, I guess."

"Me, too," Felix admitted. "I was thinking about…something."

"Your cheeks sure are red," she said. "Were you thinking about some_thing_, or some_one_?"

"Oh," he said, putting a hand up to his face. Definitely still warm. And he saw no sense in fibbing about it, so he decided to be truthful. "You got me. It's a some_one_."

"I knew it," Candlehead said, looking triumphant. "People only look that way when they're thinking about that special sweetie in their life." She sighed dreamily, getting a faraway look in her eye.

Felix couldn't help but laugh a little. He bet Turbo would love it if the handyman called him "sweetie."

Candlehead's face went from wistful to serious. She looked Felix hard in the eye. It was making him very uncomfortable, but he didn't want to look away; he was pretty certain that would be a rude thing to do. He strained a smile as she narrowed her eyes.

Her gaze went back to normal. Felix sighed inwardly. "Ah, _I _know the dealio now. You're having some trust issues with your sweetie, huh? That's definitely the 'trust issues' look. I've seen it loads of times."

"Well, not so much trust issues…" he said. How did he get looped into this conversation, again? "I just haven't seen h—this person for a really long time, and I don't know if they're the person I used to know anymore."

Candlehead nodded, the small flame atop her hat bobbing up and down. She crooked a finger and rested it on her chin. "Hmm…" Her candle grew brighter as her mouth spread into a grin. "I know! Back when you _knew_ you knew this person, what was something the two of you had in common? Like, a similar interest, maybe?"

"Well, we did have the same taste in music," he said immediately. He didn't have to think about that for long. He had some trouble fighting back the overload of memories that came with the thought.

"Hey, that's a good one!" Candlehead said. "You just need to chill with em and listen to some of your favorite music together, like old times. Get the ol candle burning again between you two." She smiled proudly.

Felix pondered the thought. He seriously doubted there was any way he could sneak a tape deck and a bunch of dusty old tapes down into the dungeon with him. But…

"Y'know, that does give me an idea," he said. "How did you get to be such a relationship expert, anyway?"

"Hey," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "I may look like a little kid, but my game's been here since '97. I know these things."

Felix couldn't help but smile at her zeal. "You've definitely given me some good advice, I think."

"You just let me know how it goes with you and your sweetie," she said.

"Can do," Felix said.

Candlehead started walking off in the direction she was originally headed. "Later, Fix-it!" she waved.

"See you later, neighbor," he called.

Felix made his way toward the tram that would take him back to Game Central Station. Even though it was weird to have a deep conversation with Candlehead, of all people, it still gave him an idea. He needed to get home and do some digging around in his closet.

**{*}**

Turbo slipped out of his strawberry wafer bunk and crossed the cell to fetch his helmet. He shook the playing cards out of it and jammed it on his head. Putting his helmet on always made him feel better, whether he had any immediate need for it or not. His entire head felt scattered. He rubbed at his eyes in irritation.

"Okay. So." Turbo began to pace, thinking aloud. "Somebody came and visited me. That actually happened." He nodded to himself.

"And that somebody," he said, nervous laughter crawling up his throat and slipping through his lips, "was Felix. As in, the guy with the fancy hammer, Felix. As in, my old flame, Felix. _That _Felix.

But wait!" he cried, pacing even faster. "Why would he come and visit me all of a sudden?" He stopped.

"The Glitch must've talked him into it," he growled, slapping his fist into his palm. "They're probably trying to reopen my case, tack more years onto my sentence in this—this—chocolate covered _hell_. And that little brat knew the only person I'd ever confess that much candid information to was…"

He hung his head. He'd been so desperate for attention after being alone for so long, that he'd allowed himself to be tricked. And quite easily, he was ashamed to admit.

Turbo plopped to the ground, staring intently at the floor. "But would he…would he really do that, though? I don't think he'd have it in him to be so…"

"Do you _always _talk to yourself that much?"

His eyes widened at the very familiar voice. He scrambled over to the door, removing his helmet. He pushed it against the door and balanced himself atop it, peeking out the tiny window.

"Candlehead?" He raised an eyebrow.

She gasped at the sight of him. "I know I saw you at the trial and all, but I kinda—kinda forgot you looked like that."

He scowled. "You sayin I'm ugly?"

"Well, you _could _do a little something with your hair," she said, giggling.

Turbo reached a hand up and felt of his messy mohawk. He didn't have a mirror in there, but he was sure it wasn't very cute.

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smirk a little at the girl's comment. "What're you doing all the way down here, anyway?"

"I heard some juicy gossip I think you'd wanna know about!" she sang, her eyes twinkling.

Candlehead always was a blabbermouth. She couldn't keep a secret to save her life. In his King Candy days, she was always running to tell him all about the latest Sugar Rush drama. Old habits die hard, Turbo supposed.

"Go on," he said, trying to act indifferent. But truth be told, it'd be nice to hear some goings-on. With no connection to the outside world, it might be nice to hear a little something-something.

"Well, but first I've got a question for you," she said. "Did you happen to have somebody stop by your cell today? Y'know, to have a chat with you?"

"Yes," he said carefully. "Why?"

She grinned. "That person didn't happen to be…Fix-it Felix, Jr., did it?"

His mouth fell open a little bit. There were times when he really, honestly thought Candlehead could read minds. And this was one of said times. "How—_how _did you know that?"

She hopped up and down, clapping her hands together. "Eee, I knew it! _You're _Felix's sweetie!"

"His what?" he said flatly.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know," she said, flapping her hand at him. "He's crazy about you. I could see it in his eyes when I talked to him a little while ago."

Turbo tightened his grip on the windowsill. "Wait, _how _long ago did you talk to him?"

"Like an hour ago, maybe...I guess."

"But today, for sure?"

"For sure, for sure!" she nodded.

Turbo sucked his teeth. "I don't suppose he mentioned…" He pursed his lips, trying to think of a nonchalant way to pick for information.

"You?" Candlehead said, grinning smugly.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing out of nervous habit. "Well, I mean—I guess I'd—did he?"

"Not by name," she admitted. "But I could tell he was talking about you."

Turbo knit his eyebrows together. This was confusing. But he knew from experience that most conversations with Candlehead were. "How?"

"He mentioned he hadn't seen a certain someone in a long time. And he was all worked up, cause he wasn't sure if he still knew this person anymore…or if this person had changed."

"He said that?" Turbo said, forgetting to conceal the sadness in his voice.

"Yeah," Candlehead said, "but y'know what I told him? I told him he should think of a similar interest you guys had, and go from there."

"Hey, we always did have the same weird taste in music," Turbo said thoughtfully.

"That's what he said!" Candlehead said. "He _was _talking about you." Her candle's flame grew brighter. "That is so sweet."

Turbo hoped he wasn't blushing in front of his former subject, but his cheeks sure felt warm.

He cleared his throat. "And what else did he say?"

"That's about it," she shrugged. "We didn't talk for long. We only started talking in the first place cause we ran into each other—literally _into_ each other."

"So he just said…he didn't know about me anymore, huh?"

"Well, he didn't say _you_, but I know it was," she said. "But don't look all sad like that! I'm pretty sure he still likes you. Like, like-likes you."

Turbo didn't know he was looking sad. He made a conscious effort to shift his face into something more neutral-looking.

"Well, I guess it's good to know he doesn't absolutely hate me, at least," he confided. Why he was telling this to Candlehead, he didn't know. Probably because his choice of company was pretty slim pickings.

"And I'll let you know if I hear anything else," she said. "But I'd better go, I bet Wynchel and Duncan'll be back from their coffee break any minute now."

"They've been gone for an hour, but you're probably right."

Candlehead said her goodbyes and left, her little flame bobbing up and down as she walked. Turbo sank back down to the floor. Their little conversation had made him feel a little better, he guessed, but it opened up a whole new can of worms at the same time. He hopped down from his helmet and put it back on his head.

"Guess it's time to build another card castle," he sighed.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I only had 3 chapters typed up in advance, so now I'm up to the point where I need to write some more. Also, I'm still trying to figure out how to write Turbo's character. Forgive me if he seems out-of-character to you...he's kind of hard to nail down (for me, anyhow). I think he's part King Candy wacky, part malevolent, a little bit sweet...a mess. And hard to write. So, if he sounds out-of-character, I promise I'll work on it.

And my idea of Candlehead is that yeah, she's pretty ditzy, but she's not totally braindead like a lot of fics portray her. (But there's no wrong opinion, of course.) I think she'd be a really insightful character. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. Chapter 4

There was a ton of junk in the huge walk-in closet, but none of it was what Felix was looking for. What was once a neat and tidy space now looked like a tornado had blown through it. He was about to decide that he'd thrown the box out by mistake. But he knew he'd never really do that, even on accident.

"Jiminy, jaminy," he said, looking around him at the destruction he'd left. "I've made a mess of things in here." He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove.

There were only a couple more boxes left to go through. He pulled a large cardboard box out of the corner and wrestled it open.

His stomach turned with anxiety. Among other things in the box—little junky things he couldn't exactly remember why he'd kept—was a smaller, worn-out shoebox. He'd looked so hard to find it, and he almost didn't even want to open it. He took a breath and removed the lid.

The shoebox was crammed full of mixtapes. The sides of them were labeled FELIX 1, FELIX 2, all the way up to FELIX 18 in loopy, fairly messy handwriting. Felix smiled as he opened the box to FELIX 1, removing the slip of notebook paper tucked inside.

Across the top of the page, Turbo had written "Track List," followed by the names and artists of the songs on each side of the tape. Doodles of flames, arrows, skulls with bleeding eye sockets, and other such things crowded the margins. Turbo might've been the greatest racer ever, but he was definitely the worst artist ever. Felix grinned to himself, refolding the paper and sticking it back in the tape box.

_I think I'll bring one of these with me the next time I go to see Turbo_, he thought. _And I'll see if he remembers them. Surely, he does. _

He put the tape back in its place and shut the lid on the box. For now, he left his closet a mess, stepping out of the small room with the box in hand. He might just have to listen to a couple of those tapes. Just for old time's sake.

**{*}**

Sleep was not Felix's friend that night. Even though he'd found that box full of mixtapes he'd been looking for, it did nothing to quell his mind. But then again, he knew it wouldn't. He still had so many questions to ask Turbo, questions he felt like he _needed _answers to, but…he didn't know how he'd go about asking them. Or if Turbo would even be willing to answer them. Or—

He reached behind his head and grabbed his pillow. He tossed it to the foot of his bed. Maybe resting his head on the mattress would help; sometimes it did, for him.

Felix couldn't stop playing the day's events over and over again in his head. Turbo had _looked _the same, that was for sure. He even had that same goofy hairdo. Felix felt his mouth turning up into a smile as he thought about it.

_"Did you do that to yourself, or were you coded that way?" he said, running his fingers through the thick mess of a mohawk atop the racer's head._

_"Well, coded that way, but don't you love it? I think it looks rad."_

_"If you say so," Felix laughed._

_"Hey," Turbo said, grinning. "At least I don't wear a stupid blue hat with my initials on it." Turbo plucked the hat off of Felix's head and put it on his own._

_"Whaddya think? Is this a good look for me?"_

_"You look nice in a hat," Felix said with honesty._

_"Yeah?" Turbo said. He quirked an eyebrow, grinning. "I might just have to keep this, then."_

_"I've got plenty more at home just like it."_

_"Nah, I was just kiddin," Turbo said. He put the hat back onto Felix's head. "There."_

The memory had seemingly come from nowhere. It was bittersweet. If he would allow himself, he could think up tons of little things like that, things long past, things…things he oftentimes wished he could forget.

It was a strange thing, knowing Turbo was still alive. When Turbo Time was first unplugged, a small part of him had wanted to think Turbo was still out there, somewhere. But those hopes rose from the ashes and died just as quickly on the day Turbo's King Candy persona had been debunked.

He had watched that idiot die twice. And now he was back again.

Felix groaned. "Why can't I just hate him like everybody else?"

An image of Turbo formed in his mind.

_Because I _get_ you, babe!_

He banged his head against the mattress, as if that would clear the scene in his mind away. It did not.

Felix rubbed at his eyes and tried to shut them, but they popped open of their own accord. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

**{*}**

The sound of his cell door opening jarred Turbo out of a hypnotic game of solitaire. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a tiny flutter of excitement in his chest. Any kind of interaction with another sentient entity was welcome in such a lonesome place.

Wynchel and Duncan made their way through the door, one with the leg shackles slung over an arm, the other with the handcuffs spinning round and round their index finger. With them they brought in a stirring of air that smelled of cigarettes and strong coffee.

"You know the drill, prisoner," Duncan said. "Up and at 'em."

Turbo feigned surprise, staring at them over his shoulder. "Have I been a bad boy, officers?" He leaned back, resting his back on the cell floor, knees bent.

"Are you here to…teach me a lesson?" He grazed his fingers over his abdomen.

Wynchel and Duncan both grimaced, their facial expressions hovering somewhere between confusion and disgust. It was Wynchel who snapped out of it first. He took his police baton and cracked Turbo across the chest with it. A sickening hollow sound filled the tiny room.

"That actually _hurt_, you fuck!" Turbo gasped, arms hugged across his chest. "Can'tcha take a joke?"

"We don't get paid to make jokes," Wynchel said in an official tone.

"You don't get _paid _at all."

That granted him another clout with the police baton, this time by Duncan.

"Now you're just being rude," Turbo said, rubbing at his newly sore shoulder.

He pulled himself off the floor and did as he did the time before—facing the wall, hands behind his back, feet together. He soon felt himself being cuffed and shackled, which was something he figured he'd never get used to. Loss of control was something Turbo was not fond of.

"We'll tell your visitor he can come in now," Wynchel said.

"I heard," piped Felix, peeking his head into the cell. He smiled sheepishly. "Ah…thank you."

The donut guards departed, but they didn't go far; they plopped down into two metal chairs sitting opposite each other, just outside Turbo's cell. As soon as they were seated they began talking about something or other, and Felix and Turbo were forgotten by the pair.

Which was just fine by them.

"Um," Felix said, hand on the back of his neck. "How…how've you been since I last dropped by?"

Turbo shuffled over as well as he could in leg shackles and sat on the edge of his wafer bunk. "Well, I did win five games of solitaire in a row, that was pretty exciting," he said dryly. He motioned his head to the space beside him. "Sit."

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose. I'm fine standing. Really."

"You're so crazy," Turbo grinned. He scooted over to give Felix a little more room. "Siddown. You're making me uncomfortable standing there like that."

Felix gave in. He sat gingerly on the wafer bunk. It was a lot stronger than it looked, he discovered.

"I didn't know you smoked," Turbo said.

"What? I do _not _smoke cigarettes, that's a very filthy habit," Felix said.

"Then what's that you got in your pocket, if it's not a pack of cigs?" Turbo quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh!" Felix laughed. "It's not—definitely not what you're thinking." His hand rested on the rectangular shape in his pocket. "You...you wanna see what it is?" Felix asked.

"Now you've got me curious, Mistah Fix-it," Turbo said, smirking.

"I think you'll like this," Felix said. He had caught Turbo's contagious smile. "It's a real trip down memory lane, let me tell you."

Felix reached into his pocket and fished out the object in question. It was one of the mixtapes Turbo had given him long ago—FELIX 1.

Turbo flinched. "That's not—is that one of the mixtapes I made you?" His hands made a move to touch it, but, of course, they were cuffed. He'd temporarily forgotten about that little detail.

"It's the first one you ever made me, see?" He showed him the label.

"I just can't believe you kept it this long," Turbo said, baffled. He shook his head. "You've held on to it this whole time, huh?"

"I've got all of them, actually," Felix said proudly. "In a shoebox at home. I just brought this to show it to you. So you definitely remember it, then, I'm guessing."

"Hell yeah I remember," Turbo said, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Wow. You're so cool for hanging on to those."

Felix laughed, opening up the box. "And look at this track list." He held the paper up to Turbo's line of vision.

"There's like six songs by The Smiths on here," Turbo said, unable to bite back his smile. "I bet those guys aren't even around anymore."

"They didn't even make it into the 90s, actually."

"No way."

"Morrissey went solo after that."

"Bet that sucked ass."

Felix shrugged. "It was alright, I guess."

Turbo sighed. "I bet I missed a lot of good music."

"You did," Felix nodded. "I hear a lot of things and I know you'll just love it." He leaned back. "You'll have to go through my music collection when you…"

"When I get outta the slammer?" Turbo finished.

"Well…yes," Felix admitted, his cheeks reddening. "But you know how you said CDs would never catch on?"

"Yeah?"

"They still make CDs, even now, they do."

"Nuh-uh."

Felix nodded. "Yep."

"Let's see that track list again," Turbo said, shuffling closer, trying and failing to fight back a smile.

They laughed about the old songs they liked, and the piece of ancient history in Felix's lap—that dusty old tape.

"Y'know, I never would admit it to ya, but I actually worked four hours on that thing," Turbo said, inclining his head toward the mixtape.

"Did you really?" Felix said. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't touched. "That's…that was so nice of you."

"Nah, not really," Turbo said. "The mixtape was just some bait, to get you to ride in my kart with me."

"Oh, it was not," Felix said, shoving Turbo's arm. "We took these tapes everywhere with us, not just your kart."

"Remember that huge boom box you had?"

"I still have it, I found it in my closet when I was looking for these."

"No way."

"Yes way."

Turbo laughed at a memory in his head. "Remember when Rally thought he broke it?"

"I made him cry! And he did break it. But he forgot I can…well…fix pretty much anything."

The mention of Felix's old boom box started an onslaught of memories for both of them. Most of them were funny, and they laughed until tears pricked their eyes and their stomach muscles strained. Some were bittersweet, which caused a lot of mumbling and nervous squirming. But it was great for the both of them to talk about everything again.

Felix looked down at his lap. "Do you remember the night you gave this to me?"

"That's the very first one I ever gave you?"

"Mmhmm."

"Not…no, not really," Turbo confessed.

"You gave this to me…" Felix took a breath. "You gave this to me the night we…"

"That night we first kissed," Turbo finished quietly.

Felix chewed his lower lip.

"Yep," he mumbled.

And then it seemed like some kind of magnetism brought the two closer to one another, their noses almost touching. Turbo felt Felix's breath on his face. He parted his lips slightly, as if he were mildly surprised about something. He felt his eyelids slip closed.

A very dry and cracked pair of lips touched his own, cautiously, an almost nonexistent feeling. As soon as the initial shock of it was over, Turbo regained enough of his sense to return the favor.

He could taste copper on Felix's bottom lip. It was split badly down the middle. But, he remembered, Felix's lips were always like that. He sighed a contented sigh into Felix's mouth.

Felix took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue through Turbo's teeth.

All his life, Turbo had heard that, if you had a great kiss, you should see and hear fireworks in your head. But when he kissed Felix, for whatever reason, he always saw snow. Big, fat flakes of snow were falling from the sky in his mind's eye, he could feel it on his face and his hands. There'd be enough to make a snowman soon. Felix had forgotten his jacket, of course, and he was standing there shivering like an idiot. They'd have to ride back to the house and fetch one for him or he'd freeze his ass off—

"Mmh—" Turbo protested as Felix pulled away, their mouths making a squelching sound as they were rudely disconnected from one another. The snow in Turbo's head melted and disappeared, evaporating as quickly as it had fallen.

"I'm sorry," Felix said.

"Don't be sorry, that was awesome," Turbo mumbled. He was still in a haze, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

"I-I suppose that was improper of me, I don't know what I was thinking."

Turbo swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth. For once in his life, he was at a loss for words. His chest swelled with some kind of emotion he couldn't describe.

It had been so long since he'd kissed Felix. So, so long. He'd forgotten so many things…that touch of cologne Felix always dabbed behind his ear, the feel of the handyman's breath tickling his upper lip, how their noses didn't quite fit together and were always squished at an odd angle. It all came screeching to the forefront of his mind. Take that, and his utter starvation for attention and contact, and you get some major sensory overload.

"No, no, don't be sorry, that was so, no, don't be sorry, I'm the one who—well, I just don't want you to—hmh—"

Felix was kissing him again, quick hard little pecks, then something that lingered a little more, and then a hurried tongue dipped into his mouth. Turbo kissed back as well as he could, which was garnering him an E for Effort at best. It was very, very difficult to concentrate. It was hard enough to tell himself to keep breathing.

This time, Felix pulled away slower, and the shock of it wasn't nearly as bad as it was just a moment before. Felix planted a chaste kiss at the corner of the racer's mouth before looking him in the eye.

"I—I don't know what to say right now," Felix stammered.

"Then don't say anything."

Felix looked down at his lap. He slipped the mixtape back into his pocket.

"What?" Turbo said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Felix stared straight ahead. "I…I think I have to go." He slid off the wafer bed, standing up.

"_What_?" Turbo repeated, shaking his head. "Wait, _why_? I don't get it, what—"

"I just…" Felix muttered, his eyes locked on the door.

"Yes?" Turbo said.

"I can't explain it to you, I just—"

"No, no no _no_," Turbo said, scrambling to his feet. If Felix wouldn't look at him, he'd walk into his line of vision, damn it. "Whassa matter? You won't even look at me."

Felix stared at his shoes. "I know, I just—we shouldn't have…"

"'Shouldn't have'?" Turbo said. He couldn't cover the hurt in his voice. His bravado was wearing off, and quickly.

Felix flicked his eyes up at Turbo for a fleeting moment. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Well, that's what it sounded like," Turbo said bitterly.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I just—I _really_ have to go." He brushed past Turbo, exiting the cell without so much as a goodbye.

Turbo stood there, dumbfounded. What had just happened? One minute they were swapping spit, and the next thing he knew, Felix was bolting out the door, acting all guilty.

_Wait a second_, Turbo thought, his eyes widening.

_Guilty._

"Oh, that little _shit_!" he yelled. He curled his cuffed hands into fists. "He's got a boyfriend—girlfriend, what_ever_ he's got."

He sighed. "Just when I think things are lookin up for ol Turbo, something stupid like this happens."

Wynchel and Duncan bumbled their way into the cell. "Alright, play time's over, face the—"

"Yeah, yeah, against the wall, I got it," Turbo said, slamming himself against the chocolate bark-covered wall. He shifted around impatiently as his restraints were removed.

"There ya go. You're a free man," Duncan said. There was a pause, and Wynchel and Duncan both busted out laughing at the "joke."

Turbo smiled with his teeth. "You irritate me."

The donut cops were still chortling as they locked Turbo's cell door good and tight.

One minute Turbo was having a _won_derful reconection with a man from his past, and the next, he was ready to scratch some eyes out. It seemed like every time Felix breezed through here, he brought with him a shitstorm of emotions that Turbo could do just fine without.

But then again, Turbo mused, it was better than days upon days of feeling nothing but boredom.

Or was it?

Turbo rubbed at his face. He had a headache now.

* * *

**Author's Note: **What was Felix thinking about when he ran out of the room...? Hmmm...HMMM...

(Yall aren't idiots, I know you get where I'm going with this. Winkwinkwink.)

Anyway, I had a rare day off work, so I was able to update pretty quickly! I'm already hard at work on the next chapter, too, so that's good.


	5. Chapter 5

How could he have forgotten about her so easily like that? He had gotten caught up in the moment and kissed his old—whatever. And then, when he realized what he'd done, he kissed him again! Ever since it had happened yesterday, he couldn't stop dwelling it, torturing himself with the thought of it and the guilty feeling that followed.

"Oh," Felix groaned, combing his hair for the umpteenth time, frowning at himself in the mirror. "Tamora would have a fit and a half if she knew about my latest shenanigans."

Felix and Tamora didn't get to visit much. He was busy with the goings-on in his own game, and she even busier. They had to schedule their dates at least a week in advance to synchronize their free time.

One of which was happening in about ten minutes. He was wearing his normal attire, though not by choice. Tamora made it clear after their first date a few weeks ago, when he showed up in a suit and tie, that she had no intention whatsoever of wandering outside her own game without armor on. So he may as well not waste his time fancying up, she'd told him—because she wasn't.

He put his hat back on his head and gave himself a once-over in the mirror. He nodded to his reflection in approval.

The lush bouquet of orange tulips and heart-shaped box of chocolates he'd bought for her sat on the edge of his bed. He scooped them up in his arms and hurried out the door.

**{*}**

"You were _nearly_ late, weren't you, Fix-it?" Tamora said, smirking. She eyed the box of chocolates and bundle of flowers hidden very poorly behind Felix's back. "Whatcha got, there, soldier?"

"These are for you, ma'am," he said, thrusting them up toward her. Even with his arms extended as far as they'd go, Tamora still had to bend down to pluck her gifts from his hands.

"A bouquet of flowers," she said. "Nothing I love more than watching something die a slow and meaningless death." She smiled. "Let's get these babies in some water."

Felix didn't know if the comment about the tulips was a good one, or a bad one. He decided not to ask. He watched as Tamora fetched a beer mug from her cabinet and filled it half-full from the kitchen tap.

She pulled the cellophane away from the flowers and dunked the stems in. "There we go. Now let's see what we got in here…"

She removed the lid from the box of chocolate. "Been awhile since I've had one of these." She picked two at random and shoved them in her mouth. "Want one?" she said through her mouthful, proffering the box toward Felix.

He felt obligated to, so he took one gingerly from the plastic mold and placed it in his mouth, trying hard not to grimace at the surprise coconut texture inside.

Tamora pawed five more candies out of the box before she shut the lid and sat it on her kitchen cabinet. "I'll just grab some for the road. We better get a move on, so we can try and beat the crowd."

"Well, there's always a crowd at Tapper's on a Saturday night," Felix said brightly, "but I'm sure it won't be too bad."

Tamora holstered her laser pistol at her hip. "Just as long as we get there before it's standing room only. Otherwise we may have to arm-wrestle a couple people for a seat."

Felix could hardly look her in the eye, and it was even harder to make himself laugh at her arm-wrestling comment. It went without saying that he hadn't told her about his trips to the Sugar Rush dungeon to visit…A Certain Someone, and he was thinking it was best if it stayed that way. Tamora was quick to anger. He didn't know who she'd kill first, him or…A Certain Someone.

She stuck the candy in her pocket, where it would surely melt, but Felix didn't have the heart to tell her. "Let's move out," she said, ushering him out the door.

"Y'know, I actually haven't found the time to make it over to this Tapper's, yet," Tamora said as they walked. For every step she took, Felix had to jog three of his own. "They have real beer there, or just the kiddie stuff?"

"Root beer by default, but most people order something, well, stronger."

"You much of a drinker?"

He blushed. "When the mood calls for it, I suppose."

"Let's see who has to carry the other home," she said. Felix made a mental note to go easy on the sauce that night to keep a close watch on her.

**{*}**

Candlehead hopped off of the tram leading out of Dance Dance Revolution X2, a small plastic bag full of her CD purchases clutched in her hand. She'd bought three new albums, and she was eager to get back to her game to give them a listen.

She made her way through Game Central Station, the contents of her bag clacking together with her every step. As she went, she caught a glimpse of a denim work shirt out of the corner of her eye.

"Hmm," she muttered, scanning the crowd. Walking through the Tapper's tunnel off to her left, she spotted Turbo's sweetie, Felix…and he was holding hands with a lady she didn't recognize.

She gasped.

Well, the only thing to do now was to follow them, of course.

Candlehead had only been to Tapper's once before, and she hadn't been back again because she felt so out-of-place. Kids her age were allowed in, so long as they ordered a fountain drink, but it was definitely more of an adult hangout spot. She wasn't too keen on going back there, but the need to know what was going on between Felix and the mystery woman was too strong to keep her away.

The first tram, along with the pair she was trying to spy on, departed down the tunnel before she could get there. But that was probably a good thing. That way, Felix would have less of a chance at spotting her. She waited for the next one to arrive and hopped on.

When she arrived at the bar's entrance, she almost changed her mind about snooping, almost got back on the tram without giving Felix and the mystery woman a second thought. It was way more crowded than she expected, and everyone was so much taller than her, she was honestly scared of being smooshed.

Then again, she knew she'd never be able to sleep that night if she didn't find out more.

The crowd quickly swallowed her, and she had to weave her way through an endless sea of legs to even make it through the entrance. Once inside, she looked around, trying to spot Felix again. It was no use. There were simply too many people around her. She—

"There!" she hissed, finally eyeing the handyman she was after. He and the woman he'd walked in with were seated at the second bar counter from the front. She clambered up a barstool at a counter two bars behind theirs.

She'd unknowingly wedged herself between two shady-looking Street Fighter characters. Her candle glowed a nervous blue as she tried not to look at them.

She could just barely see Felix from where she was sitting. If she could just crane her neck a little bit more, she could see—

"Hey, watch where yer pointin that thing, kid!" the fighter to her right barked.

Candlehead's flame had grazed the side of his arm. "S-sorry!" she stammered. She straightened herself back up in her chair. Now the only thing she could see was a part of Felix's shirt.

It was no use. She wasn't going to be able to see anything from where she was. She'd have to sneak up closer if she wanted to get a good look at the mystery woman. After all, the place was crowded enough, and she was small enough, that she could probably go unnoticed. She slid off of the barstool and crept over to the bar counter just behind where Felix sat. She peeked her head round the corner.

Candlehead bit her lip when she saw the woman up-close. _Oh, no, _she thought. _She's smokin hot!_

The woman's features looked very ladylike, but she didn't act it. She downed the rest of her beer and slammed it on the counter, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Felix winced at the noise, but smiled up at her nonetheless.

Then the woman reached over and kissed Felix on the cheek. Felix accepted her offer graciously, tilting his head upward.

_Ugh! _Candlehead thought. _That—that—! _

Honestly, she didn't know what to think. It wasn't that Felix was doing anything _wrong_. Then again…she wondered if that lady he was with knew he'd visited Turbo two times in one week. Either way, he wasn't being totally honest with _some_one, right?

She hung around a little longer. There was no more cheek-smooching to speak of; she mainly just watched them talk. At one point Felix put a hand over the woman's, very briefly, but the woman hadn't seemed to really notice. You could almost mistake them for friends, if they weren't sitting so close together, and Felix wasn't blushing and smiling so hard. Not to mention the kiss on the cheek she'd witnessed.

_I think I've seen enough_, Candlehead told herself. She threaded her way back through the mob, departing Tapper's as quietly as she had arrived.

**{*}**

"So…she was pretty?"

Turbo watched from his cell door's window as Candlehead nodded sadly. She'd made a special trip down to the dungeon, it seemed, to depress him.

"Really pretty," she mumbled.

"Tall? Blonde?"

She nodded.

"What game's she from?"

"I dunno," Candlehead shrugged. "She was kinda dressed like she might be from that new shoot-em-up game. She had armor and stuff on. And a gun."

_What would Felix be doing with somebody like that? _Turbo thought with disgust. But he pushed that thought aside for later. "Tell me what ya saw again. From the top. Don't leave anything out."

She repeated everything, starting from when she'd seen Felix walking hand-in-hand with the woman as they entered Tapper's and ending with her sneaking out when nothing particularly juicy had happened. Turbo sighed.

But he definitely didn't want to be talking deep relationship matters with Candlehead. She was a tad too young for the complicated stuff. In his own roundabout way, he thanked her for doing some snooping for him (without actually using the words "thank you"), and sent her on her way.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she left.

"Don't be," he called after her. "Nothing either one of us can do about it, right?" he tittered. But there was no mirth in the sound.

Turbo hopped off his helmet and put it back on his head. He stood there, frozen. He didn't know what to do with himself.

It was times like these when he usually began talking to himself. So that's what he did.

"Well, on the one hand, I can't fault him," he said. "I mean—can't expect somebody to wait around thirty years for ya, right?" More joyless laughter. "And he probably thought I'd kicked the bucket anyway, like everybody else did, y'know?"

He walked over to the corner of his cell and sat down, picking up his deck of cards. He fished them out of the box and began to shuffle them. "And plus, that might not be his _girl_friend. Just maybe a…a date. A date he had. And he didn't mention her to me, cause she was just…a date he was going on, and he didn't want me to overreact. That must be it."

For a second he thought about dealing a hand of solitaire, but he knew he'd never be able to concentrate on it. He flipped through the cards absently, putting the black cards in one pile, the red in another.

"But that _would_ explain why he ran out on me so fast the other day," Turbo said. "I mean, if he has this—this lady, or whatever, he might not've…might not've meant to…kiss me like he did."

Turbo finished sorting his cards, shuffled them, started over. His hands moved on their own. He wasn't paying much attention to the cards.

"Not to mention," he said bitterly. "Why _wouldn't _he mingle around, get a girlfriend or a boyfriend or somethin? There's no reason for him not to, I mean, sure, he's figured out that I'm…well, _alive_, but that doesn't make a damn. Because when he comes down here I'm all chained up and I can't touch him or hug him or—"

A few of the cards slipped from Turbo's shaking hands.

"It's funny," he said, his face twisted up into a forced grin. He scooped all the cards up and shuffled them. "It's so funny how I thought I might actually…"

He wouldn't allow himself to say it out loud: _It's so funny how I thought I might actually have a chance. _Saying it aloud made it real. He reshuffled the deck and started sorting them again.

"But when he comes back—_if _he comes back—I will be asking him about this. I want him to tell me all about his tall blonde girlfriend. I wanna hear _all _about her, yes I do."

But his mind—as minds are wont to do—slipped back into the memory of Felix's split lips on his own, but his probably didn't feel much better, but when had that ever mattered? And that wasn't one of his old memories conjured from the 80s, that was recent. _Recent_. Felix had come in here, into _his _dungeon cell, without Turbo even _asking _him to, and he'd—he'd—

"I _hate _you, Fix-it!" Turbo yelled, the cards falling in a spray around him. "I hate your _guts_! I wish you were here right now, just so I could tell you how much I hate you!"

Turbo scrambled to his feet. He needed to move. Sitting still was something he could not do whilst angry.

"I thought you were supposed to be the Good Guy, huh?" Turbo said, pacing. "Well, guess what? You aint doing so hot, _pal_!" He kicked the wall halfheartedly. "You just—you just—"

_The pool on the roof of Felix's apartment building was empty, save for the two of them. The night air was just a touch chilly against Turbo's wet skin. He attempted to jump, but he wasn't much of a jumper like Felix was. What he'd wanted to be a cannonball was more of a belly flop than anything. The slap of the water stung his entire front as he surfaced for air._

_The wave of water upturned Felix's inner tube, and he tumbled headfirst into the pool. Turbo spat a mouthful of water at him as the handyman gasped and spluttered._

_"You did that on purpose," Felix coughed, but he was grinning anyway. His inner tube was floating away from him, down to the shallow end. He watched it go as he raked his wet hair back and out of his eyes._

_Turbo tried to look at him in a discrete way, out of the corner of his eye; he didn't want to make it obvious that he was ogling. It was really strange, he thought, how one person could stay so positive and good-natured and happy all the time. That was a rare trait to find in someone, and it was a trait he definitely didn't have._

_Felix caught his eye. For a fleeting moment Turbo wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Felix was smiling that smile of his, that smile that blossomed across his entire face. A few stray hairs stuck to his forehead, the ambience bulbs at the bottom of the pool turning his skin a cool blue. _

_Their kiss was a strange wet one, and the taste of chlorine filled their mouths. _

This was a time when Turbo dearly wished he could just jump into his kart and _go. _Somewhere, anywhere. It was one of the very, very few things that would soothe his frazzled nerves. But he seriously doubted he'd ever get to drive again.

That was another thing to be mad about. He clambered into his bunk and shrank himself into the corner, pulling his knees up to his chest. He curled his hands into fists.

Quite simply, he was disgusted with everything—everything in general, but mainly himself. There was such a thing as cause and effect, and deep down, he knew this, but he didn't like to admit it.

So he lie in the silence of the sweet-smelling cell, trying to forget everything.

* * *

**Author's Note: **It actually didn't take me that long to write this chapter, so I'm hoping the next one'll come to me just as easily. Also, I called Calhoun by her first name because she and Felix are on a first-name basis, of course, and I figured it would be weird to switch between her first and last name in the same story. And I sneaked a lil sentence in there, that you might have breezed right on over, that Felix and Calhoun have only been dating for a couple weeks. In other words, they're not married in this story.

And I tried _not _to write Turbo like a total sap. Y'know? Anybody would be really sad in his situation, don't you think? But people deal with situations differently. I tried to write Turbo as getting angry, then simply shutting down-as opposed to, say, bawling his eyes out and lamenting his wrongdoings, which I really don't think he would do. So, hopefully, I did all right with that part.


	6. Chapter 6

Well. Felix wasn't going to lie to himself. He'd had a great time with Tamora last night. And if he was being completely honest, he was sad to see it end. Her tough exterior loosened itself ever so slightly as their date pressed on, revealing an almost undetectable sweetness there. He caught glimpses of it when she talked about her job, when she laughed at her own jokes, when she ate the lint-covered, half-melted chocolate she'd stuck in her pocket—and sometimes, he could see that beautiful glow within her when she was looking right at him.

But when he thought of Tamora, a nagging guilt always seemed to creep its way into his thoughts and shift his attention over to something—some_one_—else. How could he ever—_ever—_have expected Turbo to come back into his life, without warning, the way he did? No one had expected that to happen, least of all him. It was something he never could've prepared himself for, and he had absolutely no clue how to sort this all out in his head.

But he did know one thing for certain. He was incredibly confused.

What he needed to do, he told himself, was talk to someone. Someone he could trust, someone who wouldn't blab to everyone else what was going on with him. Most of all, he needed somebody who'd give him an honest opinion, whether it hurt his feelings or not.

After work that day, he made his way over to the newly-built apartment block just south of his own complex. He rang the door with a shaking hand.

Loud, impeding footsteps could be heard from within the house. The door swung open, revealing a very tall, very brawny man in tattered overalls and a threadbare button-up shirt. He had to crane his head very far downward to be able to see his company.

"Oh, hey, Felix," Ralph said, unable to mask his mild surprise at his visitor.

"Hi, there, Ralph," Felix began. He wrung his hands together as he craned his neck up at the towering figure. "Now, this…_may _sound a little strange, but—"

He paused. Ralph had a somewhat confused look on his face. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all_, Felix thought to himself.

Felix sighed. He spread his hands, palms up, in defeat. "Well, Ralph, I know we haven't exactly been that good of buddies for very long…but I'm here to ask you for some advice."

Ralph blanched. "Advice?" He chuckled under his breath. He leaned against the doorframe. "I dunno much about me giving advice. I mean, I could try, but I'm probably not gonna be much help. Might hafta ask one of the Nicelanders for their, ah…input."

Felix could feel a line of sweat beading around the top of his forehead. "See, that's…the thing. I'd really like it if the Nicelanders, kind of…_didn't _hear about this." Felix's face screwed up into a grimace.

For a second, Ralph's face remained blank. Then it slowly crept into a face-splitting smile. "Ah, Felix, you need some advice about ro_mance_, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows. "I could tell you a couple tips. Ol Ralph here may not look like much, but I been around the block a few times."

"I'm needing some…relationship advice," Felix admitted. "And since you've, uh…been around the block, as you put it, maybe you'll be able to help me out."

"Yeah, ya never know," Ralph said, grinning. "Hey, why don'tcha come on inside, we're letting all the cool air out standing here with the door open, anyway." Ralph detached himself from the doorway and ushered Felix into his apartment. With slightly trembling legs, Felix obeyed.

Once inside, Felix made a mental note to help Ralph out with his decorating. Aside from some essential furniture pieces, and a lone book on the bookshelf, the place was depressingly bare. Felix was overcome with a strage sense of loneliness at the sight of it.

"Make yourself at home," Ralph offered. "Actually, that's still something _I'm _working on, if you can't tell. I'm, uh, not much of a decorator."

"I think it looks just fine, Ralph," Felix half-lied. He eyed a sofa in what was apparently the living room. He allowed himself to drift over and have a seat.

Ralph plopped down in the armchair opposite Felix, which he didn't quite fit in; his large frame completely dwarfed the small piece of furniture. "So what's on your mind?" Ralph said, shifting around uncomfortably in the chair.

Felix's hand floated to the back of his neck. "I don't even know where to start, to be honest."

"Well, are you having some problems, or…?"

"Definitely problems," Felix nodded. "I guess you could say I'm…well, there are two people I've been granting my affections to, here lately, and I know I ought to pick just the one…but I don't know who—"

Ralph raised a hand up to shush him. "Say no more. I know exactly what you're going through."

"Y…you do?" Felix blinked.

"Oh, yeah. The classic love triangle! You see it all the time."

Felix thought for a moment. "I suppose you could say I_ am _in a…" He mumbled the rest. "Love triangle."

"Just outta curiosity," Ralph said with a grin. "Who might you be in this little triangle with, huh?"

Felix bit his lip.

"One of them's a given," Ralph went on. "One's definitely Calhoun. You had a date with her last night, didn't you?"

"I did." It wasn't exactly a secret, so no surprise there.

"And so, there's one other person besides her, huh?"

"That would…seem to be the case." Felix was fighting the urge not to pull his shirt collar away from his neck and fan himself. He'd figured this was going to be an embarrassing ordeal, but he wasn't expecting to get this flustered talking about the mess that passed for his love life.

"C'mon, you can tell me who it is. I can keep a secret, you know me."

"Oh, I'd really, ah, rather not, Ralph," Felix stammered.

"I won't tell a soul. Cross my heart." With a large index finger, Ralph made an X motion across his chest.

"I can't."

"Well, how're you gonna expect to _be_ with this person if you can't even tell me their name?" Ralph said matter-of-factly. "You can't keep em a secret forever."

This realization hit Felix like a falling brick from his game. His eyes widened.

"Well, if you're not gonna tell me, that's all right, I guess," Ralph shrugged. "Anyway, Calhoun's a really awesome lady. I mean, she's a little rough around the edges, but hey."

"She _is _pretty awesome, isn't she?" Felix mused.

"How'd your date go, the one you had the other night?"

"It was just wonderful," Felix sighed. The honey glows crept into his cheeks. "I know Tapper's isn't the most dignified place to take your date, but I had a hunch she would like it. And I think I was correct."

"Didja kiss her when you took her home?"

The honey glows were getting warmer. "Oh, just a peck on the cheek."

"Okay, and what about the last time you went on a date with, uh, this other person, whoever they are? When the date was over, did you kiss them?"

Going into a dungeon cell while the other person had to be bound at ankles and wrists could hardly be called a date, but Felix would have to pretend it was.

Felix thought for a moment. "A-actually…" The memory of he and Turbo's kiss surfaced in his mind, and just the thought of it was enough for his breath to hitch. That means he had…he had…

"We did kiss," he said simply.

"You and that other person?" Ralph asked, to clarify. Felix nodded. "And what was that one like? Different?"

"Magical," Felix said. _Magical? _He wished he could take the word back and replace it with something less…stupid. But it was too late now.

Ralph nodded, his brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down, deep in thought. "You know, it'd _really _help me out if you'd just tell me who the other person is."

One of Felix's weaknesses was that he felt the need to tell the truth all the time, and he also thought he should be as honest as he could, without hurting the other party's feelings. Something nagged within him, screaming, _just go ahead and tell him! _But he didn't know what would become of it. Word traveled fast in Niceland. Very fast. He didn't want to spread the news that he was horribly attracted to a psychopath all around his game. It'd be a pure nightmare.

Then again…Ralph was a Bad Guy, but he wasn't a bad _guy_. He wouldn't tell anyone.

"Okay," Felix started slowly. "I'll tell you who it is. But you've got to promise me something."

"What've I got to promise you?"

"You will not tell _any_one. I'm sorry, but I'm sort of wanting to keep this out of the books, if you know what I mean, for as long as I can possibly manage. I can just imagine the Nicelanders' faces when they figure out who else I'm…interested in."

"That bad, huh?" Ralph said. "Well, I can be the judge of that. Lay it on me. Who's the mystery date?"

Felix took a huge breath. "You're not even going to believe me when I tell you," he said. _Was it getting really hot in there, or was it just him? _"So just…please know that I am being completely serious when I say this."

"Got it."

Felix averted his eyes. Suddenly, the little square of light the window was letting through to the floor was very interesting indeed.

"I'm…it's…" He whispered the name. "Turbo."

Ralph's back went rigid in his chair. You could've heard a pixel drop, the silence was so horrible and deafening. Felix tried to swallow, but he didn't have enough moisture in his mouth to do so.

"Turbo?" Ralph said, his face somewhere between a mixture of shock and displeasure. "As in, _the _Turbo? As in, lock him up and throw away the key, Turbo?"

"T-the very same," Felix stuttered.

"How? No, not how. _Why_?" Ralph threw his huge hands in the air. "How could you possibly see anything even remotely redeemable in _that _guy?"

"Well, he—"

"He's a psycho!" Ralph said. "A grade-A basket case! He lost all his marbles a _long _time ago."

"I-I'd have to agree with you on that, to an extent," Felix said gently. "But just…hear me out. There's a lot more to him than just…missing a few of his marbles."

"I'm listening," Ralph said slowly. It was obvious he was a little more than skeptical.

"Okay, well, for starters…" Felix steeled himself as best he could for what he was about to say next.

**{*}**

"I got nothin," Turbo sighed, splaying his cards on the table.

"Pair of sevens," Felix beamed.

"Oh-ho, pair of queens!" Axel said, slapping down his hand. "I've got both of you beat. Rally, whaddya got?"

"Read em and weep," Rally said proudly, displaying an eight, nine, ten, Jack, and Queen of diamonds. A smug look graced his face.

"What?" Axel exclaimed. "How'dja manage _that_?"

"A straight flush?!" Turbo spat, crossing his arms. "You cheated."

"Wait, so if they're all the same color, it's called a what?" Felix asked. He'd never played a hand of poker in his life before that night, and he really didn't care if he won or lost—he was mainly trying to learn all the rules.

"Not if they're the same color, if they're the same suit," Turbo said, biting back a smile. "They're all diamonds, see."

Felix scratched at his head. "Alright, I…well, I think I get it."

"I believe this belongs to _me_," Rally said proudly, raking the ante toward him, licking his lips. They were all using Oreos as poker chips. Felix and Turbo were both losing pretty equally, and the recent hand put Rally a fair ways ahead.

"Looks like we're going to bed hungry tonight, huh?" Turbo said to Felix, pursing his lips.

"It's okay, I don't mind losing," Felix said, flapping his hand. Turbo couldn't help but smile at him a little. Of course he didn't mind losing, he was too damn sweet to—

"Aw, look at our little bro, Rally," Axel said, wiping away an imaginary tear from his eye. "Finally caring about someone other than himself."

"Get a load of that dreamy look in his eye," Rally replied.

The twins sighed dramatically, staring at Felix in a way that made him just a little uncomfortable.

"Both a you can just shut the hell up," Turbo said hotly, crossing his arms. He grinned at Felix. "They're just jealous. These two couldn't get a date if they held somebody at gunpoint." Felix bit his lower lip to keep from smiling, a hint of a laugh escaping through his nostrils.

"That may be true," Rally said. "But who has the most Oreos, here?" He took one of said poker chips between his thumb and index finger and bit it in half. "Is it you…? Oh, wait, it's me."

"I was getting kinda tired of this game, anyways," Turbo said, pushing his chair away from the table. Felix followed suit.

"Just so ya know, Felix m'dear," Axel said, "he always quits when he's losing."

"Do not," Turbo said, giving his brother a _please stop talking _look. The twins snickered to themselves.

He led the way over to the front door. "Actually, I was kinda hoping I'd have time to show you somethin. Y'know, before you have to go back to your game?"

"Oo-_ooh_—" the twins hummed collectively.

"Shut the f—" Turbo cut his swear off for the sake of the virgin-eared handyman standing beside him. "Please don't do this right now. I will kill you in your sleep tonight, I swear I will."

Rally tried to stifle his giggles, but they hissed out of his mouth anyway. Axel dismissed them with a wave. "Behave yourself," he warned.

"Let's get outta here," Turbo said, shooting his brothers death glares as he guided Felix out the door.

The two of them stepped out into the humid night. Lightning bugs blinked through the otherwise dark air, a muggy breeze sticking to their skin. Turbo reached a hand out, for a fleeting moment thinking that it might be a good idea to grab onto Felix's, but yanked it back after a nanosecond of thought. His palm was sweaty anyway, he told himself.

"It's not far, we can just walk," he said to Felix, who was looking a little on the confused side.

"Where are we going?"

Turbo smirked. "Nope, not telling you, it's a surprise. You'll see."

"Surprises make me nervous…"

"It's nothing bad, promise." Turbo started forward.

Felix had every right to be a slight bit nervous. After all, everybody knew if you died outside your game, you didn't regenerate. For all he knew, Turbo could be carting him off somewhere to slit his throat. It was a highly unlikely theory, but a possible one, nonetheless. He took a breath and followed Turbo's lead.

The two walked side-by-side, the only sounds being the soft buzzing of bugs, the scuffling of feet on grass, and the _plink-plink-plink _of Felix's golden hammer swaying in his belt loop. It was unnerving. Luckily, though, they weren't far from where they were going.

The ground they walked on lifted in a steady incline, and plateaued at a place Felix had been before.

"The main racetrack?" Felix said, raising an eyebrow. "I-I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, I just—"

"Well, sorta," Turbo interjected. "C'mon, though, I wanna show you something rad."

He led them off to the far right, and it quickly became apparent that they were headed toward the stadium bleachers. Felix felt his heartrate quicken. They were either going to go up the steps, or underneath the structure—a dark place perfect for murder. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Turbo climbed the steps, where he was happy to follow.

"We're goin to the top," Turbo said as he climbed the bleachers.

"Oh…kay," Felix said, sticking his arms out to his side to keep his balance.

As they climbed, Turbo kept turning his head round to make sure Felix was still following him. It looked like the handyman was having some technical difficulties climbing the unsteady bleacher boards. Turbo stopped to let him catch up, grabbing him by the wrists when he was within reach.

"Yeah, they take some getting used to, huh," Turbo said as he guided him up the last three rows. He was climbing them backward now, how he was managing that, Felix would never know.

"It's a tiny bit wobbly," Felix admitted. "And, uh…high-up."

"'High-up' is why we're here," Turbo said. He sat down on the highest bleacher and motioned for Felix to do the same.

"Check it out," Turbo said, pointing straight outward.

Felix gasped.

"Oh my land…"

The glass double doors and floor-to-ceiling windows of Litwak's arcade were in perfect view. In the Player's World, strings of red and green lights wound around the streetlights, glowing proudly in the darkness. Strange white stuff, which Turbo had heard one of the players refer to as "snow," drifted down from the out-of-game sky in lazy puffs.

"Why, you can see the whole outside of the arcade from here!" Felix exclaimed. "I can only see about half of it from my game, and even then…my penthouse is up too high for this kind of view."

"Innit great?" Turbo said.

"Of course!" Felix said. "Though I wonder what those white things are, must be some kind of…strange weather they have out there, I guess. And those lights…they must be having some kind of festivities."

"No telling," Turbo shrugged. "Kinda cool, though."

"_Very_…cool." Felix beamed.

Turbo tried again to screw his courage to the sticking point, reaching for Felix's hand. This time, he did it. It wasn't what he'd expected; he sort of forgot the fact that Felix was wearing thick work gloves. Felix smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze anyhow.

"Hey, next time, you should show me this penthouse of yours," Turbo said. "I wanna see what that's all about."

He felt Felix's hand stiffen underneath his own. The happy expression melted away from Felix's face as quickly as it had appeared.

"What's the matter?"

"Uh, see, there's…" Felix stammered. "Oh, how to explain…"

Felix pondered the thought for a few seconds. "The only other characters in your game, besides you, are your brothers, right?"

"Don't forget the cardboard cutouts," Turbo said, motioning toward the other half of the bleachers, where humanoid shapes were propped up, smiling and lifeless.

"Well, back in my game, I live in an apartment building, as you know, but I live there with others. Twenty-six others, to be exact."

"Yeah, and?"

"And, they're very overprotective of me, me being the Good Guy and all." Felix said. "_Very _overprotective."

"What, they're gonna hack my head off if they see me with you?" Turbo smirked.

"Not exactly," Felix said, taking his free hand and fidgeting with the hammer at his side. "It's just…they'll be so…so _cross _with me."

"Why, though?"

"They just will be, trust me," Felix said sadly.

"Sound like they need to get over themselves," Turbo said.

"Oh, they mean well," Felix sighed. "And they'd do anything in the world for me, but a lot of the time it's like I've—well, like I've got twenty-six moms and dads."

"Yikes."

"Exactly."

"Well, if it's that big of a deal to ya," Turbo said, "just forget about it, then. No harm, no foul. There's lots of other places to hang out. And obviously my brothers like you." He rolled his eyes. "So we can always come back here."

"I've just got to warm the Nicelanders up to the idea of you, first, is all," Felix insisted.

"Don't worry about it, I said."

"But I have a pool on my roof."

Turbo raised his eyebrows. "Okay, worry about it a little," he said, giving Felix's hand a reassuring squeeze.

**{*}**

"And so you never told anybody that Turbo was your…" Ralph tried to think of a better word, but couldn't. "Boyfriend."

Felix shook his head. "Not until now."

"I'm the only one that knows."

"That's right." Felix swallowed.

Ralph's mouth was agape. "How long did you…how long were you guys together?"

Felix thought. "About a year, I guess, but then he, uh…"

"Went Turbo?"

Felix winced a little at the harsh comment. "Yes."

Ralph's face was stuck in perpetual surprise. "I really just can't believe—this isn't a joke, it it? You're being serious right now?"

"Ralph! Of course I'm being serious! I would never joke about something like this."

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't," Ralph nodded. "I just…I'll be honest, I just can't picture it. You know. You two."

"That's what I expected you to say," Felix nodded. "But now do you see my problem? All this time, I thought Turbo was…_dead_. I mean, I had hope, but I never really thought…" He shrugged. "And I finally got the bees out of my bonnet and went down to the dungeon in Sugar Rush to visit him, and…"

Ralph quirked an eyebrow. "Lemme guess, you still love him."

Felix said nothing. The honey glows were setting his face afire.

"I have no idea what you see in him, but it is what it is, I guess," Ralph said, locking his hands behind his head. "Now you're telling me you've got a choice to make."

"That's exactly right," Felix said, finding his voice to reply. "And I have no idea what to do. I'm hopeless." He hid his face in his hands, groaning.

Ralph scrunched his face in thought. "Okay, let me ask you this."

Felix uncovered his face. "Yes?"

"Was he good to you?"

Immediately Felix wished he'd never lifted his head up. He wanted to hide somewhere forever. "Yes, he was very good to me."

"He wasn't an asshole to you, like he is to everybody else?"

"He's not an—he just has his ways," Felix said.

"Yep, I can definitely tell you're still in love with him," Ralph grinned. "That's the only way anybody would stick up for that jerkbag. But seriously, though, did he ever yell at you?"

"Not a single time."

"Hit you?"

"No!" Felix crossed his arms.

"Was he mean to you in any way, shape, or form? Tell me straight, it's just you and me here, remember."

"Honestly, Ralph, he was very nice and very well-behaved. In fact, it was…it was me who wanted to keep our, ah…relationship, I suppose you'd call it…a secret. Not him. You would've known him a lot better, if it wasn't for my silliness."

Ralph stroked his chin in thought. "And obviously Calhoun doesn't beat up on you, you're definitely in one piece, I see," he said. "So they're on pretty equal playing ground there. Honestly, buddy, I think it's gonna come down to your own personal preference, not any kind of advice somebody gives you."

"I know," Felix groaned. He felt of his cheeks. Very hot. "Who would you pick, Ralph? If you were me."

"Need I remind you that Turbo tried to murder me, and very nearly succeeded," Ralph said. "So I think you know who I'd pick. But it's not about me, I don't have to look at his ugly mug. It's all you."

_He's not ugly_, Felix thought feebly. Oh, he had a headache something awful.

"Would you hate me if I…" But Felix couldn't finish what he'd had in mind to say.

"Picked Turbo over Calhoun?" Ralph said. "Nah, I wouldn't hate you. Question your taste in characters, maybe, but I wouldn't _hate_ you."

"And you'd let him come visit Niceland without punching him to a bloody pulp?" Felix asked, wincing.

"I guess if I have to," Ralph grinned. "And it kinda sounds like you've decided who you wanna be with, buddy."

Lost in his fantasy of everything finally righting itself, Felix had sort of forgotten about Tamora. Again. He was ashamed of that. He scowled at himself.

"But Ralph, Tamora is so…she's just a real dynamite gal, all-around," Felix said. "She's strong, she's _beautiful_, she can be so nice and caring when she wants to be, she loves to go out and have fun, and…and nobody judges me when I'm with her."

Ralph took all of this in, nodding. "I'm not gonna lie to you, that's a tough one. And I don't wanna sway you one way or the other. This is a decision you have to make for yourself, like I said. And just keep in mind you don't _have _to make a decision by tomorrow, or anything.

My only solid piece of advice to you is this: don't rush the decision. Go on another date with Tamora, have some fun with her, go and…whatever you'd do with Turbo. Just test the waters a little bit."

"That's what you would do?"

Ralph sighed. "That _is _what I would do. Now, I know that's not that good of advice, but—"

"No, that's great advice," Felix said, standing up. "It really is. And you are exactly right about not rushing this decision. It _is _a pretty important one, huh?"

"Definitely," Ralph said, clambering out of the tiny armchair. "No need to rush it, they'll get over it." The entire floor shook as Ralph crossed the apartment to open up the door. "Hey, good luck, all right? And, uh, keep me updated."

"I will."

Felix descended the apartment steps, saying his goodbyes to Ralph and thanking him again for the chat. It had been great to talk to someone about his troubles, and in a way, it felt like a weight had been lifted from him. Now that another soul knew about his situation, it didn't feel nearly as suffocating. And he supposed Ralph wouldn't mind if he came to him again to talk. He and the wrecker had become closer as of late. He made his way down the sidewalk home with his head held a little higher. Maybe this strange affair he'd found himself in wasn't so hopeless after all.

Maybe he really did need to just give it some time.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Long chapter! I couldn't find a good place to cut this one off, so away it went. And also, I feel like I should apologize for my writing being so chatty, like I try to back up afterward and put some good details about the setting in there, but mostly it's just characters talking...? Oops. Anyway, yall are awesome, and thank you so much for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Beginning Author's Note: **I'd been thinking of doing a "suggested listening" thing at the beginning of each new chapter, like I've seen some stories do, but I decided instead to just make an 8tracks list! You should totally go to my profile and get the link and listen to it. I'm working so hard on it and I'm adding new songs as I find gooduns. (Shameless plug for myself now over, please continue to the actual story.)

* * *

Opting to be President instead of princess, Vanellope was obligated to do the democratic thing and give Turbo a fair trial to decide his fate. Everyone in Sugar Rush was present at the very big ordeal. Though a couple characters came to sympathize with Turbo's reasons for doing what he did, he was still very much guilty of his crimes. And away to the dungeon he went, which wasn't that big of a surprise for him. He wasn't under the crazy notion that he'd actually be found innocent, of course not.

One of the people who felt she understood was Candlehead. If everything she loved, every little tiny thing, was in danger of being unplugged and erased forever, she might be cornered into doing the same thing Turbo had done. She didn't know if she could _kill _someone—an entire _game _full of people, like Turbo had done to RoadBlasters—but she'd be lying if she said it wouldn't ever cross her mind.

And yes, Turbo _had _locked away everyone's memories, including hers…and made Vanellope's life a nightmare, but…could he not have done a lot worse? A _lot, _lot worse? It's not like he completely uprooted the game's binary and made a wasteland of the place. And if he was as bad as everyone made him out to be, would he not have ruled with an iron fist, instead of being the benevolent king he'd been?

He was more foolhardy and short-tempered than evil, Candlehead always thought to herself. Then again…she'd always had a soft spot for troubled souls who had lost their way. She couldn't help but like Turbo.

This time on her trip down to the dungeon, she'd brought a buddy with her. Adorabeezle Winterpop had noticed her prolonged absences when she'd go down to the dungeon, and had made the mistake of asking about it. Candlehead had insisted she come with her the next time she went. Being too nice of a girl to say no, Adorabeezle had obligated herself to go along.

"Are you sure he won't…" Adoabeezle mutterd, "hurt us?"

"Nah, course not!" Candlehead said, leading the way down the familiar corridors. "I've always just yelled through the window at him, but let's go on into his cell this time since there's the two of us, I think that'll—"

"N-no, the window is fine," Adorabeezle whimpered.

"Oh, they chain him up before we go in there, silly," Candlehead said. "They leave the door open, even. He can't lay a finger on you. The worst he can do is breathe on you."

"Or bite me."

Candlehead shook her head, smirking. "He won't bite you, I'll make sure he doesn't. Now will ya calm down? You've got something to give to him, anyway. That'll butter him up for sure."

At the mention of the gift, Adorabeezle patted her shoulder bag, where the present lay. It wasn't much, but she felt like she shouldn't impose on someone without getting them a little something—Turbo or not.

The girls' scuffling footsteps got the attention of Wynchel and Duncan, who had their noses buried in a Paperboy newspaper. Wynchel lowered his paper to his lap.

"What can I do you for, kids?"

"We wanna go in to see Turbo," Candlehead said.

Now it was Duncan's turn to slap his newspaper down. "I don't think that's such a good idea, gallies," he said. "I mean, we let the Fix-it guy in there, but he can handle hisself if something goes screwy."

"If you chain him up, there's nothing he _can _do," Candlehead said.

"He could bite you," Wynchel said. Adorabeezle made an _eep _sound, covering her mouth with her hands.

"No one's biting anybody," Candlehead said, exasperated.

"I'm not gonna bite anybody," Turbo, who was eavesdropping, called offhandedly.

Wynchel sighed, putting his paper to the side and standing up. Duncan did the same. "Alright, I guess I don't see why not." He took the cuffs and shackles from the wall, handing the latter to Duncan. He unhooked a large silver key from his beltloop.

While the guards gussied Turbo up for his visit, Adorabeezle was visibly shaking. Candlehead put a hand on her shoulder.

"Seriously, girl, calm down," Candlehead said.

"But he's—" Adorabeezle lowered her voice to a whisper. "A killer!"

"Oh, hush, didn't you hear him at the trial? He felt like he had to do that."

"That doesn't change the fact that he k-killed an entire gamefull of people!"

"And the whole time when he was king of Sugar Rush, did he kill _you_?"

Adorabeezle faltered. "Well, no, but—"

"He was awfully nice to you, right?"

"But that was all just pretend!"

The guards swung the door open, resuming their position at their chairs. "Go on in," Duncan said in a bored tone, retrieving his paper from the floor.

"Not as much pretend as you think," Candlehead whispered before walking in, Adorabeezle on her heels.

Turbo was leaning against the wall, like he was quite comfortable indeed in his restraints. "This is the first time you've actually come _in _here, instead of our little windowside chit-chats. What's the deal, Lucille?"

Then he eyed the girl hunkering behind her. "I get it, you brought somebody else to share your torment, huh? Hmhm, is that snowboots I see? I only know one girl who has cool shoes like that."

Adorabeezle peeped her head out from behind Candlehead, eyeing Turbo carfully. He sounded like King Candy, sans lisp, but he definitely didn't look like him. He was scarier up-close, but not as scary as she'd anticipated. She stepped to the side, out into full view.

"H-hello," she squeaked.

"Long time, no see," Turbo said, half-smiling at her. "Hey, ya found your red gloves."

The snowy racer looked down at her hands. "Oh! Yes, I did! They were in my glove compartment all along."

"They're always in the last place you look, huh?"

"That's because when you find them, you stop looking," she said matter-of-factly. She surprised herself at how quickly she'd warmed up to Turbo, almost feeling guilty about it. But it was somewhat similar to talking to her old king again, who was always willing to chat, no matter what. It was very odd.

"We mainly just came to pester you," Candlehead said. "Though, I _would _like to know…has a certain somebody come back to see you again?" She waggled her eyebrows.

"Who?" Adorabeezle said.

"Turbo here has a sweetie."

Not wanting to be rude, Adorabeezle tried her best to hide her shock. "Really?" She hoped it sounded more curious than accusatory.

"An old…_sweetie _of mine has discovered I'm down here," Turbo explained simply.

"Who?" Adorabeezle repeated, directing the question toward her friend.

"Fix-it Felix, Jr."

Adorabeezle tightened her lips into a thin line. It took all of her self-control and fear of offending others to keep her face emotionless at the shocking news. "He's a nice fella," was all she said, though she was thinking loads more than that.

"That's just what Turbo needs, don'tcha think?" Candlehead said, sighing. "I think they'd go together like cake and ice cream."

_More like a blow torch and ice cream_, Adorabeezle thought, though she just nodded politely.

"Nah, he hasn't been back yet," Turbo said.

"Oh, good!" Candlhead said. "Cause I've been doing some thinking—"

"Careful, that's dangerous," Turbo hoo-hooed.

Candlehead stuck her tongue out briefly before going back to what she was saying. "I've been thinking, you should get him back for dating that lady."

That was still a fresh wound for Turbo, but he didn't let it show in front of the girls. "How so?" he said.

"Well, when he comes to see you next, he won't know you know about her," Candlehead said. "Wait till he gets good and comfortable, and then _wham_!" She slapped a fist into her palm. "Tell him the jig is up!"

"That's mean," Adorabeezle said.

"But so is dating someone behind the other person's back," Candlehead retorted.

"Well…" Adorabeezle mumbled.

"This is nothing you need to worry yourselves about, girls," Turbo said. The King Candy sweetness toward the racers that began as an act, but gradually grew into a genuine trait of his, seeped through his voice. "I'll deal with Fix-it."

"Are you gonna be mad at him?" Adorabeezle said. She sounded genuinely worried for Felix. She cared entirely too much for others and not enough about herself, Turbo thought.

"I'm not mad at anybody," he said, which wasn't truthful, but he said it for the girls' sake.

"Are you mad at Vanellope?"

Turbo's eyes widened. He expected crazy-deep questions like that from Felix, but not from the younguns.

Candlehead jabbed her friend in the side with her elbow. "Don't ask him questions like that, ya goofball!"

"I-it just slipped out!" she said, slapping her red-gloved hands over her mouth. "I'm so sorry!" she mumbled from behind her hands.

"Let me tell you a little somethin," Turbo said, a tiny note of sadness in his voice. How to explain a very elaborate thing such as this to two children? He simplified it as best he could. "I did a…I did a bad thing to Vanellope, the way I pushed her code to the side the way I did. And I knew it was bad when I did it, don't misunderstand me there. But it wasn't until I actually lived in Sugar Rush awhile that I found out…_how _bad."

The girls were taken aback at Turbo's sudden burst of honesty. They remained silent, hopefully coaxing him to finish what he'd begun.

"And instead of fixing what I'd done wrong, I made it worse. So in answer to your question," he said, inclining his head toward Adorabeezle, "the answer is no. I got what was comin to me, pretty much."

Now, was he _really _mad at Vanellope? Of course he was, but he didn't want to break Adorabeezle's fragile heart. The Glitch had ruined everything he worked so hard to achieve, every little string of binary he'd meticulously rewritten, every folder of code he'd carefully hidden away. They were all ruined by the little princess he hadn't had the heart to kill.

He could have very easily deleted Vanellope altogether. That was the safest thing to do, and he knew it, but when it came down to it…he couldn't. Not even he was mean enough to wipe an innocent child from existence, even _before _he was surrounded by them at all hours of the day as King Candy. So instead of killing her, he swept her under the rug—which, in a strange twist of fate, ended up being his downfall.

Then again, there was the tiniest voice in the back of his head telling him, _if none of this had ever happened, you would have never met Felix again._ That was also another sickening thought to ponder, and it wasn't something he liked to dwell on.

But he said none of that to the quizzical little faces before him.

"Kinda depressing, huh," he said.

"Hey, honesty _is _the best policy," Candlehead said with a shrug. "At least you didn't make up some lie about how nothing's your fault."

Adorabeezle gave Candlehead's arm a shake.

"What?"

"_Now _who's being a goofball, goofball? Hush!"

"Girls, girls," Turbo said. "It's alright. I'm pretty sure it's me who's the goofball, anyway."

"Yeah, you pretty much are," Candlehead laughed. "But let's get back to your sweetie Felix for a minute, I'm not done with that yet!"

The three of them talked awhile longer, mainly on Candlehead's sighting of the mystery woman, and how Turbo should bring it up next time Felix came around. Adorabeezle, of course, was all for keeping it a secret, but Candlehead wanted it to blow up in Felix's face. Turbo was mainly indifferent on the matter—after his angry outburst two nights prior, his nerves had burned themselves completely numb to the subject. What happened, happened. He'd figure it out when it came time to. But it was such a refresher having visitors underfoot that he kept the conversation alive, pitching in with his snarky comments and lame jokes every now and again.

"I think I could stay and gab all day, but we gotta get back to town," Candlehead said, checking her little pocketwatch for the time. "Adorabeezle's got a _date_."

The girl in question blushed, her eyes staring down at her boots.

"You are _too_ young to be dating!" Turbo exclaimed, frowning.

"We're just having a p-picnic," Adorabeezle muttered.

"Who is it?" Turbo asked, brows furrowed.

"A bubblegum boy she ran into after the Random Roster Race one day," Candlehead answered for her. Adorabeezle's cheeks turned lilac.

"Just tell this boy to keep his hands above the neck, awright?" Turbo said sourly.

Adorabeezle finally allowed herself to smile. Maybe Turbo wasn't as scary as she thought.

The girls said their goodbyes, and as they turned to leave, Adorabeezle let out an _oh! _of surprise.

"I forgot!" she said, turning round. "I brought you something."

"Brought _me_ something?" Turbo said.

"I just k-kept thinking you might be bored down here, all by yourself," she said, riffling through her bag.

"You better believe it, lemon drop." _Lemon drop_? He'd had a whole book of confectionary pet names he used back when he was King Candy, but they didn't get a lot of use now that he was back to being Turbo. That one had just slipped out. Maybe he ought to use them more often…pfft.

She pulled a brown paper sack from her bag, cautiously placing it on Turbo's strawberry wafer bunk. "It's okay if you don't like them, but I think they'll help pass the time."

"Say," Turbo said. Adorabeezle looked at him inquisitively. _What was the thing you were supposed to say when somebody did a nice thing? Oh, yeah. _"Thanks, kiddo."

She nodded. "You're very welcome."

The girls made their leave, and Wynchel and Duncan came in to undo Turbo's bindings. Turbo let the door shut behind them before he scrambled over to the bunk and upended the package, dumping the contents out in front of him.

Inside were three things: a unicorn-themed coloring book, a box of crayons, and a paperback copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland &amp; Through the Looking Glass _by Lewis Carroll_._

At first, Turbo didn't know what to think. A part of him wanted to laugh at having gotten such childish gifts, while another part wanted to cry at being given something to do, other than faffing around with a deck of cards all day.

"Bless you, child," he muttered, thumbing open the worn cover of the paperback.

* * *

**Ending Author's Note: **Ahh! Well, I hope you don't think Turbo is too out-of-character in this chapter. I honestly do think he has a soft spot for everybody in Sugar Rush, especially the racers-except for Vanellope, obviously. And there's not any Felix in this chapter! I've already started on the next chapter and he's in that one for sure. As a matter of fact, the next chapter takes places just a few hours after this one ends. I was going to tack them both on together, but it was just too long and I didn't want everybody to have to read all that in one go. Thanks for reading, as always.(:


	8. Chapter 8

"My, you're popular today," Duncan remarked, once again securing Turbo's leg shackles.

"I guess I am," Turbo said. He was about to add A Very Good Joke to the end of that, but seeing as he wasn't in much of a mood to be starstruck with a blunt object, he decided against it.

"Done," the donut remarked, and Turbo turned himself around as they left. Felix sidestepped the doorway to let them pass through.

"I _really _don't see what you see in that guy," Wynchel said with a shake of his head. Felix laughed nervously, floating into the room with an anxious hand pulling at his work glove. He had a look on his face that looked suspiciously like guilt.

_This is gonna be good, _Turbo thought, nibbling at the inside of his cheek.

"Do come in, Mistah Fix-it," Turbo said, shuffling onto his bunk, which felt very much like a pedestal at that moment. He sat placidly, his knees to his chest, eyeing his prey.

"Hi, there," Felix said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. Turbo lowered his eyelids. He'd have to say he was enjoying watching the handyman squirm.

"Ya look a little nervous, honeydip," Turbo said. _Hey, whaddya know, I did work one of my old pet names in there. Heh. _

"Well, I _did_ make my way down here with something weighing a might heavy on my mind," he said. "Something I'd like it if we could…discuss?" He grinned sheepishly, his eyes all but disappearing under the push of his cheeks.

_Hmm, so he's gonna come clean, is he_? Turbo mused.

"Discuss?" Turbo questioned.

"I really don't even know where to begin," Felix said, wringing his hands together. "I'll admit I didn't think this through much." He sucked in a breath, sighing it out. His shoulders sagged. "But I believe there's something you have the right to know."

Turbo raised his eyebrows.

"Go on."

Felix leaned against the wall. "It isn't so much that I did anything wrong, really, I just…should have been more honest about something."

"All right."

"And…I think it's only fair to tell you…oh, I'll just come right out and say it, there's no use in stalling, I suppose," Felix said with a sigh. "I'm…seeing somebody."

Of course, Turbo had already known this, so this came as no surprise to him. Still, hearing Felix say it with his own voice was none too pleasant. He had to seriously try to keep a straight face, though he figured his seething glare was giving him away, anyhow.

"Who?"

"H-her name's Tamora," Felix stammered. "And mind you, I met her be_fore_ I discovered you were, ah…among the living." Felix wrung his hands together.

"So her name's Tamora, huh?" Turbo said. His voice was so low that Felix strained to hear him.

"Yes," Felix said. When Turbo didn't reply, Felix went on, "And I wouldn't exactly call her my _girl_friend." Nervous laughter. "We've only been on a few dates now, we…don't hardly…get the time to…"

Turbo laced his fingers together and perched them atop his knees.

"Turbo?" Felix said carefully.

"No, I'm listening," Turbo said. "Keep going. Tell me all about this Tamora." As the venom dripped from his voice, the tension in the room became more and more palpable. Felix's breath hitched.

"It's not that I—oh, how to explain this," Felix said, grating his hands together quicker than ever. "Now I really didn't know that you—I couldn't possibly have known that you—I met Tamora the day Ralph disappeared into Sugar Rush." There. He'd finally spat it out. "We, ah…we came here to look for him. Together. Well, not _here_, here." Laughter. "Sugar Rush, here. And, well…we just…kind of…hit it off?"

Felix grimaced.

Turbo said nothing.

"You're being awful quiet," Felix squeaked.

Some kind of strange and unidentifiable emotion welled deep within Turbo, manifesting itself as acid coming up his esophagus. He cleared his throat.

"I don't even know what to say," Turbo said. There was no anger in his voice, which surprised even himself. "I guess I can't blame you for, uh…whaddevah you're doing with her. Can't really date _me_, can you?" He shook his leg shackles and clicked his handcuffs for emphasis.

Felix trotted over to him. "No, no no no," he said, shaking his head. "It's not like that. It's just that I met Tamora _before_…all this." He waved his hands around, indicating Turbo's dungeon cell. "I had no idea I'd ever see you again." He placed a reassuring hand on Turbo's knee, his sad icy-blue eyes boring into Turbo's. "You have to understand that."

"So what are you saying?" Turbo muttered.

"I…" Felix removed his hand from Turbo's knee, kneading knuckles into palm. "I still…" he faltered.

Turbo looked at him expectantly. More of that gray-tasting stuff was coming up his throat. He hem-hemmed as quietly as he could.

"I still have my affections for you," Felix said. "Actually, it's…well…quite a bit of my affections." It was dim in the cell, but Turbo thought he could make out Felix's cheeks reddening. It didn't take much to get the handyman blushing, but in this kind of situation, Turbo thought it a good sign. It meant Felix was being earnest.

Then again, Felix was always earnest.

"You do?"

_Shit. Real smooth, Turbs._

"Of course," Felix murmured. His face softened into a sickeningly sweet smile, a smile that hurt Turbo to even look at, but of course he couldn't make himself look away. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. He was on a different planet, in a faraway galaxy looking down at his own body.

He thought he might vomit.

"I don't know what to thay, I'm tho thpeechless," he said.

As the words left his mouth, Turbo was mortified. His King Candy lisp had somehow returned. In the back of his mind, he thought it might be because his nerves were beyond frazzled at that moment. He couldn't concentrate enough on his speech to keep the well-used lisp from returning. Perhaps. He didn't dwell on it much. He was too busy staring at the man in front of him.

Turbo laughed under his breath.

Felix allowed himself to sit on Turbo's bunk. He sat down carefully, still wary of the sturdiness of the thing. He turned himself toward the racer.

"Well," Felix said slowly, "how do you think you're feeling about me?"

Felix's voice was so warm and buttery and reassuring. How he worked his devil magic, Turbo didn't know, but suddenly he wanted to tell Felix everything in the world.

"Of courth I thtill have feelingth for you," Turbo blurted, "I mean, hehoo, we never did exactly...break up."

Turbo's face was growing hot. If he started honey glowing like Felix, he would lie himself down and die of embarrassment. He bit his tongue. Hard. Maybe that would make the stupid fucking thing straighten up and talk correctly.

"We didn't even have a chance to," Felix said softly.

"I know," Turbo said. "I know I know I know."

Their teeth clicked together. Turbo felt a hand, two hands, slither behind his back, grasping his own, pawing at his fingers, trying and failing to interlock them. The kiss was filled with need, with the answer to a question Turbo could never figure out how to ask. Turbo was fine with the lipwork but he never did figure out what to do with his tongue. Luckily Felix was taking the lead of this one. He felt Felix's tongue slither carefully into his mouth, caressing the top of his mouth, his teeth, his whatever was in there, he didn't even know. He sat there stupidly, unable to move his hands or his arms or his legs, and the only thing he could really do was tilt his head a little, just a little, and hang on the tongue of the man that made him so nervous (...happy?) that he lisped.

Felix broke the kiss with an abrupt jerk of his head, but before Turbo could even protest, he felt his shoulders being crushed by the squeeze of Felix's arms around him. Felix buried his head into Turbo's neck.

"I don't know what to do," Felix mumbled into the collar of Turbo's racing suit. "I…I don't want to hurt her."

"It'th okay," was all Turbo could manage to reply. Which was a useless thing to say to someone, but he couldn't think of anything better.

Felix raised his head to look Turbo in the eye. Their faces were inches apart. Turbo could feel the warm puffs of Felix's breath on his mouth.

"No," Felix said, "it isn't. I don't know how to do this without hurting her."

"Do what without hurting her?"

"Tell her. Tell her I'm…tell her that we…"

Turbo swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. He chewed at his tongue.

"Tell her I just…can't. Can't be with her anymore."

Something in Turbo's brain hollered _victory_. He'd won. He'd won Mistah Fix-it, and there was nothing that lady could do about it. But at the same time, there was a tiny part of him—_tiny _part of him—that was thinking, _no! That's selfish! Felix should be free to roam and date whoever he wants, you're stuck in this cell, what fuckin fun are you? Don't do this to him! Don't trap him in here with you!_

Turbo could say nothing. He just looked at Felix with what he hoped were apologetic eyes. Words would simply not come to him.

But he knew he had to say something. Felix was looking at him expectantly. So he took a shaky breath and attempted to speak.

"Felix, this," he began, noticing his speech impediment had gone, "is gonna sound really lame coming from me. But…if ya really like this lady, then I guess…" he trailed off, scowling. He didn't want to finish what he felt like he should say. He had his feelings for Felix, and of _course _he wanted him all to himself. Yet he was just tender enough to admit he'd like to see him happy rather than miserable. The rotted, maggot-infested thing he called a heart was good enough to admit that to him. But he couldn't put it in words. It was too disgusting.

Felix put Turbo's face in his hands. He was smiling that sweet smile again. "I'm glad I came here today, you know that? It feels like a brick's been lifted right off my chest. Now I know for certain…who I want."

"Really?" Turbo said stupidly. His voice was slightly skewed due to Felix smooshing his cheeks with his gloved hands.

A feather-light kiss brushed against his lips.

"I think so," Felix laughed.

"But I'm in prison, I'm so damn boring," Turbo said. He was in a daze. "Don'tcha wanna go and have fun with that lady? Instead of sitting here doing nothing? With me?"

Turbo's voice had found the words he needed to say. The kind words. He'd almost forgotten how to say nice things, but Felix's presence had him trying to dig up those phrases again.

"It'll be okay," Felix said. "It'll be okay."

Turbo felt himself being jostled into another hug. Felix always was a hugger. He could feel Felix's hair against his cheek.

"I guess we could always play 20 Questions or somethin," Turbo said. He felt, rather than heard, the handyman laugh quietly.

"We'll figure something out," Felix said. "Don't you fret."

Turbo's belly was warm, like he'd just had a good shot of vodka. Felix was in his arms…sort of. More like draped over him, but it was still pretty good. It dragged up a lot of good memories. It made him feel hopeful for his future, actually. Now he had something to look forward to when he was released.

Not some_thing_…some_one_. His and Felix's relationship had ended abruptly and at a weird time, so there was no telling where it'd go from where they were at now…where _were _they at now? It was still a confusing thing, but there was one thing Turbo knew for sure—the lump clinging to him put more life in him than anything had in a long, long time.

And if he played his cards just right, maybe that lump would stick around.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, the last chapter was actually supposed to be the beginning of this chapter, in a way, and the previous chapter reads as more of a filler chapter because I decided to split them up. I think.

But I had this chapter written, and I'd so disappointed myself with the last chapter and how it turned out that I scrapped chapter 8 altogether. All of it. And I decided to do a complete rewrite, hoping to make up for what I'd done last chapter. And I'll have to say that I'm pretty pleased with this chapter! Everybody seems in character, worked some sugar in there...I think it sounds p. good. And hopefully yall will think the same...and I will be honest, I've not yet started work on the next chapter, because I'm still torn between one of three different scenarios. I don't want to make the wrong decision so I'm weighing each option carefully.

And between you and me...I wanted the Turbo Twins to make their appearance? But it would have nothing to do with the main storyline, so I guess that should come at the end somewhere.

Anyway, I hope this chapter was better.(:


	9. Chapter 9

Now to break it to Tamora. And that was _definitely _something easier said than done.

Felix had a lot of thinking to do, which seemed to be the case a lot of the time, here lately. He found his legs taking him out to his usual thinking spot—the Niceland River. It wasn't much, as far as rivers go, but it was relaxing to hear the trickle of the water and watch the pixels float by.

The handyman sat at the edge, legs splayed, reclining on his elbows. If he were being completely honest with himself, he really hadn't planned on telling Turbo all he had. But once he'd actually gotten face-to-face with his favorite racer, all of his prior planning crumbled apart like a chunk of sheetrock crunched in his fist.

It seemed like every time he stepped into that prison cell with Turbo, a divine hand reached down with a drink stirrer, stuck it through his ear canal, and scrambled his brain into a froth with it.

It was kind of a nightmare, really. But…a good nightmare.

"Come here often?" came a voice off to Felix's left. He didn't have to turn his head to know who it was. Felix grinned at the comment. The giant of a man toppled his huge frame unceremoniously to the grass.

"Hello, Ralph," Felix greeted in what he hoped was a chipper enough voice, but he wasn't so sure. "I'm just taking a gander at the river for a minute or two…clearing up my thoughts."

Ralph hummed his understanding. "So I saw you heading out last night," he said. "Another date with Calhoun, eh?"

Light blue pixel waves floated down the dark blue of the river. Felix watched a trail of them snake past. "Well, actually, I went over to Sugar Rush. To see Turbo."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about that," Ralph said. "How was he? A jerk, I'm guessing."

It wasn't really a secret that Ralph didn't care for Turbo. Actually, "didn't care" was being pretty generous. "Wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire" would be more like it. But Felix supposed he understood.

"Oh, no, Turbo was just fine," Felix said. _A little aggravated at first_, Felix thought, _but he'd…warmed up_. "It's just that…well, we had a little chat about…things. I'll spare you the details, I know you probably don't—"

"Nah, let's hear it," Ralph said. "Remember what I told you a few days ago? About me knowing a thing or two about romance?" Ralph waggled his bushy eyebrows. "Maybe I can throw my two cents in."

So Felix filled him in on the previous night's events…skipping over the kissing portion of the encounter.

"You let Turbo know you still have feelings for him?"

"I hadn't exactly meant to," Felix said. "It just came out, I suppose. But, yes."

"And he actually said the same thing to you?"

"He did," Felix said, trying and failing to keep the excitement out of his voice. This whole business might be a confusing mess of things, but it was nice to have feelings reciprocated, regardless. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of it. "In fact, I think he was a might nervous about admitting it. His old speech impediment, you know? From King Candy? It somehow…returned."

"Well, that's kinda crazy," Ralph said. "I wonder if he frazzled his code or something. People don't just switch back and forth between a lisp and no lisp, do they? I mean…that's gotta do with the way you position your tongue or something, dunnit?"

A square-looking bug skittered across the top of the water. "I think he was just a little scared."

"I just can't even imagine Turbo being so…" Ralph stuck his tongue out in disgust. "_Sweet_."

"He's a nice fella," Felix said. "He's got a short fuse, and I can tell he has a whole heap of trouble holding back his anger.

But," he sighed. "He has his good side. You just have to get to know him, is all."

Ralph shrugged. "If you say so," he said with obvious skepticism.

"I know he's…widely disliked," Felix said. "Which makes everything all the harder."

"And by everything, you mean…?"

He huffed out a sigh. "It's hard enough that Turbo is…well, he's in prison, obviously. I have to go to him, he can't very well come to me. And they _do _let me into his cell, which is something, at least, but they put cuffs on his wrists and his ankles, which is…a little on the awkward side."

"Can't really fault them for doing that, though," Ralph noted.

"I suppose not," Felix agreed. "You can never be too careful, I understand that. But the other issue at hand is a lot more stressing."

"I'm guessing it's got something to do with Calhoun," Ralph said.

"Indeed it does," Felix said. "Not just her, but," Felix made a wide arc with his arms, "everyone. They all love her."

"She _is _a nice lady."

"I know she is," Felix fretted. "She's really swell, she truly is, but…"

Ralph shrugged. "You just don't love her," he said simply.

Felix pinched his lips together. "No. I don't. A part of me wishes I did, it would simplify my life something awful." He placed his elbows on his knees, his face coming to rest in his palms. "But I can't help how I feel, I suppose."

"Have you broken the news to her yet?" Ralph asked. Then he added, "Wait, I doubt it. I don't see any holes in your gut or any limbs missing, you look like you're still in one piece to me."

"Exactly," Felix said. "I have no idea how I'm going to tell her. In fact, I haven't even decided on whether I'm telling her about Turbo or not."

"She'll find out sooner or later."

"I know, but I just don't know how she'd take the news. It's enough that I'm, for lack of a better term, breaking _up _with her. But telling her that there's someone else on top of that…would it not hurt her too badly?"

"Dunno," Ralph said. "Maybe tell her about Turbo later. Unless it just comes up in conversation, then I'd spill it. Don't lie about it."

"I surely won't lie about anything," Felix nodded. "How would _you _do it, Ralph?"

"Do what, tell Tamora you're not, uh…romantically interested anymore?"

"Yes."

"Huh." Ralph thought for a moment. "Well, first of all, I would do it someplace public."

"Public, definitely."

"And this is just my opinion, but I don't think I'd do it in a restaurant or something like that, where it'd embarrass you guys if she, well, y'know…stormed out of the place."

"Which she's likely to do," Felix grimaced.

"And I guess I'd pick a place where the two of you can talk it out, not like a Street Fighter match, or anything. Kinda quiet."

"Right, right," Felix nodded. He thought he had a place in mind. "What should I tell her, though? I don't even know how to begin."

Ralph picked up a flat, smooth rock and flicked it into the river. It skipped once, twice, sunk. "Now that," he said, "I'm not sure if I can help you with."

Felix groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"I guess…" Ralph said. He thought. "I guess I would just come out and say it. She's smart, she'll know what you're up to, anyway."

"Just spit it out, you think?"

"I think I would," Ralph said. "Just get it over with—like ripping off a bandaid, y'know?"

Felix sighed deeply. For a second, he considered hopping into the river and sinking to the bottom, just like Ralph's rock had done. But he decided he'd better not.

"Why does this have to be so complicated?"

"That's love for ya," Ralph grinned.

"I think I've had just about enough of it," Felix said, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, but it'll all be worth it in the end," Ralph reassured him, giving his shoulder a gentle shove with his forefinger.

Felix smiled up at him. "I hope you're right."

{*}

_The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she thought: still it had _

_VERY long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with—_

A key clinked and jostled in the door lock. Turbo slapped the paperback shut and stuffed it into his racing suit just as a very familiar figure shuffled in.

"Sour Bill?"

The green candy pushed the door open until the hinges caught, just before hitting the wall. Wynchel and Duncan could be seen hovering behind him, batons poised to strike, but they made no move to come into the cell.

Well, Turbo thought, restraints really weren't necessary in this situation. If he _did _take the notion to stomp Sour Bill to a powder, he'd just respawn. No real harm done. Everyone present was an ingame character, so their binary would realign itself lickety-split, if Turbo happened to be hankering for some murder.

Even Turbo himself was technically a Sugar Rush character. He'd woven his code good and tight into the motherboard of the game. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. They could kill him as many times as they felt like it.

"Delivery from President Vanellope," Sour Bill announced in his droning voice. He tugged on the leg of a simple straight-backed chair encrusted with—or perhaps made of—peppermints. Turbo looked out into the hallway. Bill was dragging one chair, but there was another waiting outside, as well.

Why would The Glitch be giving him two chairs?

As if reading Turbo's mind, Sour Bill began to explain. "President Vanellope has specific orders about these chairs, King Can—uh…Turbo."

Turbo, who had been lying on his back in his bunk, shifted himself into a sitting position. "Yeah, I bet. What's the deal with these, anyway?"

"She made it very clear that you're not allowed to sit in them," Sour Bill said. "She's noticed you've been getting quite a few visitors, here lately, and she doesn't want them to have to sit on the floor."

"No surprise there," Turbo shrugged. "But if ya don't want me sitting in them, why not just bring them in when somebody comes?"

"Cause that would be a pain in our asses," Duncan called into the cell.

"That," Bill said, fetching the other chair and scooting it into place, "and I think she's trying to tempt you, sir."

Turbo smiled a little at the "sir" Sour Bill had slipped him. "Whaddya mean, tempt me?"

"If Wynchel or Duncan catches you in one of these chairs," the green candy said, "or anyone, really, she says she'll put you in solitary confinement. Indefinitely."

"Fun," Turbo said.

Turbo had an idea of what "solitary confinement" was. The cell he'd had specially constructed for The Glitch was still very much vacant. He was surprised she hadn't put him in there to begin with. Maybe she felt the tiniest bit sorry for him.

But Turbo really doubted that.

"Now Fix-it Felix and the kids will have a place they can sit," Sour Bill monotoned, aligning the chairs in the corner.

Bill was always very meticulous about details, Turbo remembered. He had to have everything just so, no matter how menial it seemed. A wave of nostalgia hit Turbo as he watched Sour Bill's jellybean-shaped hands adjust the peppermint chairs.

"Say, how d'you know who comes to visit me?" Turbo said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Word travels fast to President Vanellope," Bill said. "And I hear most everything from her."

It was much the same situation when Turbo was King Candy. He and Sour Bill were always chit-chatting about this or that, the majority of the juicy stuff coming from Candlehead. Just thinking about The Glitch chewing the fat with Sour Bill, _his _Sour Bill, made him want to punch the wall. He settled on digging his nails into his palms, leaving little half-circle indentions in his skin.

"I got a question," Turbo said. He lowered his voice. "How _is_ your new president? Y'know. An eight-year-old running an entire game full of people, I can't see any drawbacks to that at all." He rolled his eyes. "How's she workin out for ya?"

Sour Bill averted his eyes. "No comment."

Turbo scrambled off his bunk, crouching, as eye-level to Sour Bill as he could manage. "Yes comment!" he whispered, so that Wynchel and Duncan wouldn't overhear. His eyes were wide, almost childlike, with anticipation.

Bill took a step backward. "No."

"C'mon," Turbo said. "Ol buddy, ol pal." He curled his lips into what he hoped was a pleasant smile. "I gotta know these things. Stroke my ego a little, here. Tell me somethin good. Well, bad."

Sour Bill opened his mouth. Turbo nodded, trying to coax the information out of him.

"I…"

"Yeah, yeah?"

"…Can't."

Turbo's smile disappeared. His mouth fell open. "I bet I know what one of the things is," he said slyly. "There's no way that little ankle-biter can keep up with all the citizen complaints and all the paperwork that goes with it."

Again, Sour Bill looked away, shuffling his feet, looking very much like he wanted to run away from this scenario and never look back.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Turbo muttered. "Say it," he added in a singsong tone.

The green candy said a jumble of syllables under his breath, something Turbo couldn't make out.

"Whassat?" Turbo said, cupping a hand to his ear. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said…" Sour Bill swallowed. "Maybe."

Turbo laughed, but for once, his giggling wasn't out of nervousness or anger. He was genuinely pleased with himself. Pleased as punch.

"I knew it," he said, a bubbly and self-righteous feeling buzzing through him. "I knew you all would miss me. You need me."

"I don't think I said _that_," Sour Bill said.

Turbo threw his mouth open in mock surprise. "Cheeky!"

"Ay, Billy Boy, hurry it up, wouldjeh?" Wynchel called. "We ain't got all day."

Sour Bill sighed, shaking his head. "Don't forget what I said about the chairs," he said as he shuffled out of the cell. "No sitting, no touching, no…anything."

"Duly noted," Turbo replied, raising his body back into a standing position. The door slammed shut and the locks were promptly locked. Turbo cocked an ear to the window, hearing three pairs of feet walking away from the cell.

Grinning, he draped himself across both chairs, tucking his hands behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankles.

Just out of spite.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Unfortunately no direct Felix/Turbo interaction in this chapter, but it was necessary to move things along a lil bit. But I did get to write Turbo's pal Sour Bill in this chapter! (Are they friends? I'd like to think he and King Candy were actually friends, as opposed to a villain/henchman type deal, but there's no telling. So he and Turbo would still be on civil terms, maybe? _Maybe_?) I dunno. Well, hope this chapter didn't read as a filler chapter, I tried hard to stay away from that.


	10. Chapter 10

"I'll have to admit," Tamora said as she took a cautious step out of the tram. "You've got me intrigued."

Fix-it bounded in front of her, hopping from foot to foot, a wicker picnic basket nearly as big as he was in both hands. "Oh, you'll just be happier than a bug in a rug when you see this place," he said as he walked.

Something was up with him, and had been for a couple weeks now, but she couldn't quite work out what. The most obvious answer, Tamora thought, was that he wanted to break things off with her. That would explain the nervousness, the abrupt distancing, et cetera. Then again, she'd always been the suspicious type, so that might not be it at all. But she wasn't taking it off the table yet.

Instead of confronting him about it, Tamora decided she'd let things pan out on their own. See where this went. After…after Brad, she didn't let herself get too serious with her romantic relationships straight off, so her feelings were still well-guarded behind the mental wall she'd constructed within herself. She nearly hadn't given Felix the time of day at all, as a matter of fact, when he'd asked her on their first date. But he was so harmless that she couldn't find valid reason to say no to a free meal.

The two of them had traveled to the _Soul Calibur III _cabinet. This was yet another place she hadn't had a chance to visit yet. She'd only been plugged in about a week when the whole Ralph fiasco began, and after that, she'd really bumped up security in her own game. When she had even a tiny window of free time, she and Felix had tried to squeeze in a date or two. That didn't leave her with a lot of time for leisurely strolls through Game Central Station.

"You sure we don't need to check in with the head honcho around here before we go traipsing around?" Tamora asked.

"Already have," he said brightly. "I came this morning—they know we'll be here."

"All right," Tamora said carefully. Still, she had her hand hovered over the grip of her laser pistol. She wasn't so sure about this place just yet.

It looked safe enough, but experience told her that that didn't mean a whole lot. It appeared as if they were in a large castle, an old-style job made of thick gray stone. It was well-lit, with an abundance of torches hanging in their holders along the wall, but it was still suspiciously quiet around the place. Surely they should've come across another character by now…

Tamora voiced her concern. "This place is a little on the empty side, isn't it?"

Felix shifted the picnic basket in his arms. It was obvious it was cumbersome for him, but Tamora thought it would hurt his pride if she offered to carry it.

"I think everyone's outside," Felix said. "This is more of an…outdoorsy type of place." He smiled back at her. "Which is why I thought a picnic would be just peachy-perfect."

Felix stopped at a set of double-doors at the end of the hall. Tamora had her arm outstretched to open one of them, but Felix sat the picnic basket down and opted to do it for her. But when he reached up to grab the handle, it was up too high. Even on tiptoe, he couldn't reach. He could reach it with a little hop, but he couldn't manage to twist the rather large handle and still maintain his grip. With a little sigh, he dropped himself to the floor, a hangdog look on his face.

Tamora smirked. _Well, he tried_.

"Um, I don't suppose you could…?"

She nodded. "Affirmative."

With a slight flick of her wrist and a nudge from her forefinger, the door eased its way open. Luckily, she was trained in keeping a neutral facial expression, else she would have had to grin at Felix's crestfallen frown. But he quickly erased the look from his face and replaced it with one of determination, grabbing up the picnic basket and opening the door the rest of the way with his foot.

"After you, ma'am." He couldn't gesture with his hands, so he pointed the way with his head.

Tamora stepped through the doorway and let out a tiny gasp, much to her chagrin. But she couldn't help it.

Immediately after leaving the castle, one's feet stepped out onto a bleached stone pathway. The path led up to a small bridge, crystal-clear water trickling idly by beneath it. Just past the bridge was a field of jade-green grass and cherry blossom trees. A perfect place, she thought, for a picnic.

_I see where you're going with this, Short-Stack_. She smirked.

Felix bounded along the path, across the bridge. It didn't matter how fast he was walking; her stride was so big, she had no trouble whatever keeping up with him. They were headed to the place she'd scoped out from the entrance.

The ground was hilly, but not too terrible. Felix picked a good, flat spot underneath one of the cherry blossom trees. He plopped the picnic basket down and fished out a red- and white-checkered vinyl blanket. He shook out the folds, sending a spray of cherry blossom petals flying through the air. Two of said petals stuck to Tamora's lips. She _pff-pff_ed them off.

Felix covered his mouth with his hand. "I…I'm _really _sorry."

She smiled down at him, a fist on her hip.

"I think I'll live."

The little guy was really prone to blushing, wasn't he?

Tamora sprawled out on the picnic blanket while Felix pulled this and that out of the basket, arranging it in front of her. Plates and forks and glasses, a jug of apple juice (really? How old were they, seven? But she didn't say this aloud, and surely didn't let her face show that she was thinking it), and…a pie so golden and flaky her mouth was actually salivating.

He barely had time to sit the pie down before she had a serving spatula stabbed into the center. It emitted a beautiful, crisp crunch as the metal pierced its crust.

"Let's dig into this bad boy," she said as she began to slice.

Tamora cut the pie while Felix poured their glasses. She grabbed up a fork and stuffed a bite into her mouth. She'd assumed since the stuff inside was red, it would be cherry, but she was wrong. She chewed her mouthful thoughtfully.

"What," she said, swallowing. "kind of pie is this?" She pointed to it with her fork.

"Strawberry rhubarb," he said. "I was a little tired of the usual." He took up his own plate, but he didn't make a move to eat any.

"Well, whatever the hell a rhubarb is, it's tasty." She helped herself to another forkful.

Felix sat his plate down. He sighed.

"Oh, fiddle. The truth is, Tamora, I didn't bring you out here for pie."

She quirked an eyebrow. _Here we go_.

"That so?" she said. She took a swig of apple juice, staring at him from behind her glass.

"Uh…"

She took another bite of pie.

And another.

And another.

"Spit it out, soldier." She'd meant for it to come out a little gruffer than it did. But it was hard to be mean to someone so obviously worried and distressed, even for her.

He jumped a little at her words. "Okay. All right." He took a breath. "Tamora, I suppose there's no need in me dragging this out, but I wish I had a better way to put this…"

The only exposed portion of her skin was her face, but she suddenly wished she were in something a little more breathable. A warm breeze was floating through, swirling around the cherry blossom petals. She had a temperature regulation mod within her armor, but it wasn't the same as actual weather. The wind felt nice. She looked down, and was a little surprised to find that her pie was half-gone already. She took another bite, trying to separate the strawberry flavor from the foreign rhubarb.

"Tamora," Felix began again, "don't you think…don't you think it might be better if we…"

Ah, yes. Here comes the _why can't we be friends _bit. She took a swig of apple juice.

"I promise I had all this planned out beforehand," Felix said, hand on the back of his neck. "What to say, and all. I really did, I just seem to have…forgotten it all." A strangled sound squeaked out of his throat. He looked (and sounded) truly pitiful.

Tamora thought about putting him out of his misery by helping him along with his words, but the thought was fleeting. _Very _fleeting. The scene unfolding before her was just too good. Almost like dinner theatre.

He sucked in another breath. "Tamora, we've been on quite a few dates now. And they have been…more than delightful." He steepled his fingertips together. "But I was thinking that it might—be better if—we just—went together—as—_friends_?"

_Right on the money,_ Tamora thought. She had mentally prepared herself for this, ever since she had the notion that this date was not like the rest of them they'd been on. Still, it stung. She was fond of the little shrimp squirming and sweating in front of her. There was no doubt in her mind he would be a good boyfriend to her, if it ever would've come to that. And not only that, but he wasn't bad-looking, either. Extremely short, yeah, but a cute guy.

A question arose in her mind.

"Why so sudden?" she said. "Just last week we rendezvoused at _Tapper_'s. You seemed fine there. Something happen?"

He grimaced. "Ah—_well_—no, not…exactly."

"Elaborate," she said softly. She knew from interrogation training that a low voice could be more penetrating than a yell, if well-executed. She hit a bull's-eye with that one; she could see it in Fix-it's glassy blue eyes.

But apparently Felix had found a well of courage somewhere deep inside himself to tap into, because he squared his shoulders and locked eyes with her.

"Tamora," he said, the nervousness in his voice all but gone. "I told myself that if this came up in conversation, I would be honest enough to tell you the truth. So I will."

"The truth would be good," she said dryly. She finished the last bite of her pie, sitting the plate down beside her.

So Felix began to explain things to her. He added a lot of extraneous details into his sentences, which nervous people are wont to do, but she got the gist of it. And the more she heard, the more and more wild it got. Almost unbelievable. In fact, she probably wouldn't have believed it, if it weren't obvious on Felix's face that he was telling speaking the gospel.

When he'd finally finished his near ten-minute explanation, Tamora said, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Felix blanched. "What do you mean?"

"Your old boyfriend was _Turbo_."

"…Yes."

"I'm sure there weren't a whole lot of characters to choose from when you were first plugged in, but _Turbo_? Really?"

"He's a nice fella," Felix said. Was that a hint of defensiveness in his voice? He was getting defensive over that gray idiot? She must've been wearing a blue dress and Mary-Janes, because she was definitely falling down a rabbit hole.

"Did you just call Turbo a 'nice fella'?"

"If you get to know him," he added quickly.

"I think I know him well enough," she said. "How he's pulled the wool over your eyes so tight, I really don't know."

Felix was silent. He was working his lips together, like he was contemplating on chewing at one.

Tamora went on. "Look, Fix-it. He might've been a 'nice fella' back in the 80s. Hell, I didn't know the guy. But trust me. He ain't nice anymore."

She threw the last drop of her apple juice down her throat. Despite the troubled look on his face, Felix was quick to refill it for her.

"Well," he said, "I know…exactly what you're thinking. And…I don't expect people to understand it right away." He swallowed. "Or ever."

Tamora narrowed her eyes in thought. "What is it that you see in him that can make you look past the terrible things he's done?"

Felix stuck little fork-holes through the top of his pie crust. He was mutilating a perfectly fine piece of dessert in his worry.

Finally, he spoke.

"I don't know. I can't help it, I guess." He sighed, slumping his shoulders. He looked tired.

"But I can't imagine…_Turbo_…loving anybody but himself." She shifted into a more comfortable position on the picnic blanket. "Are you sure he's not up to something? Seems shady."

At the sight of Tamora settling into a more comfortable spot, Felix allowed himself to slump over on his side, propping himself up with an elbow. "I've spent many a sleepless night thinking about that. But I'm convinced he doesn't have any…bad intent." He allowed himself a ginger sip of juice. "You'd just have to talk to him yourself, then you'd understand."

A sly smile crossed Tamora's face.

"You know? I think I will."

His eyes widened. He sat up robotically, staring at her with eyes round as gumballs.

"You're not _really _going to…go to the Sugar Rush dungeon and _talk _to him, are you?" He laughed nervously.

"Sugar Rush dungeon, is it?" She nodded. "I think I'll wander on over, next time I get a chance. As a matter of fact…" She grinned wickedly as the horror grew more and more intense on Fix-it's face. "Why don't we go right now?"

"Right—right _now_?" he squeaked. "Now, now? _Right_ now."

Tamora stood up. "Yep."

_That's what you get for breaking up with _me_ for somebody like _Turbo, she thought. She'd make him sweat this one out. Former love with current. What could be more gloriously awkward? It didn't bother her, she'd been through a hell of a lot worse. But it would give Felix a lesson in love he wouldn't soon forget.

He stumbled to his feet, hands visibly shaking as he loaded the contents back into the picnic basket. As she waited, she held out her hand, catching a fluttering cherry blossom petal in her armored palm. She gripped her hand into a fist and crushed it.

As they walked back to the game entrance, Felix with his metaphorical tail between his legs, she said,

"That was some _really_ good pie, by the way."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, let me tell you a thing. This chapter took me longer to write because I was halfway through it and decided to do a rewrite (I do that a lot). But I had it written where the two of them went to the Chao Garden for their date. Yes. As in, the Sonic the Hedgehog Chao Garden. I was rereading it and it sounded like my bad Sonic fanfictions from fifth grade. All it was missing was Shadow the Hedgehog doing something angsty and it would've been a perfect recreation. I hit the backspace button so fast I broke the sound barrier. There _is _a Sonic the Hedgehog cabinet in Litwak's Arcade, but no Soul Calibur. I just made that up. Soul Calibur is one of my favorite games to play at an arcade (when I actually get to go to one, which is next to never), so I threw it in there. Plus, it's got a whole roster of great characters to use if need be (probably not, though). Also, I hope I haven't written myself into a hole, here. The next chapter might take awhile to write, too...maybe not. Enough rambling, thanks for reading! I appreciate it so much. When I look at the traffic graph for this story it gives me the honey glows. I guess the 80s boyfriends ship isn't sunk just yet (nyuck nyuck nyuck).


	11. Chapter 11

**Beginning Author's Note: **Hoo boy...this is another long chapter. I'm sure you could see that by the word count for this chapter, but I thought I'd throw it out there. I couldn't find a good place to stop, and even after I'd cut a lot of the fat from it, I still had a lot. Sorry:(

* * *

Wynchel and Duncan peered up at the towering figure looming over them, both caught somewhere between wounded pride and mild terror.

"Really, uh, ma'am," Duncan said. "We gotta put his, uh, whatcha-callems on him first." He shook the cuffs and shackles in either hand for emphasis.

"If you die outside your game—" Wynchel started.

"You don't regenerate," Tamora said flatly. "I know. But I think I got this covered." She withdrew her laser pistol and shifted into the Weaver stance. The donut guards scrambled away from the line of fire.

"Okay, okay," Duncan said. "Point taken. You can handle yourself."

"Felix, though," Wynchel said, "I'm not so sure about."

Felix's face looked slightly offended, but he said nothing, at the risk of being rude. Tamora holstered her gun and shrugged.

"I guess I'll look after him," Tamora said. "Maybe."

Felix wasn't actually worried about Turbo not being restrained. Not worried about himself, anyway; he truly didn't feel like Turbo would try to harm him. What good would that do him, anyway? He didn't know why Tamora was so insistent on the racer's bindings remaining off, but he figured it was because she wanted to watch him try to run while she fired rounds at him.

"Well, if you're sure…" Duncan said.

"Oh, I'm sure," Tamora said with a smirk.

Duncan threw the handful of chains unceremoniously to the ground, sending them clattering over to the corner. "Alright, then…but don't say we didn't warn you."

"I'm sure I can handle a four-foot has-been," Tamora said.

Wynchel unlocked the door for the two of them. "She's open," he announced as he swung the door on its hinges.

Felix hurried past Tamora and into the cell, intent on giving Turbo a half-second of warning before the gun-toting heroine caught him completely off-guard. But as he got into the cell, one thing was obvious:

Turbo was sound asleep.

He was splayed out as best he could on the tiny strawberry wafer, one leg dangling from the edge, the other bent at the knee and pressed against the wall. His right hand was behind his un-helmeted head in lieu of a pillow, his left resting atop his belly. His loud breathing could almost be mistaken for snoring.

In the time Felix took to debate on whether or not to wake him, Tamora entered the cell behind him.

Then everything started happening very quickly.

Felix heard some sort of a metallic sound, and three quick _pshoom-pshoom-pshoom _sounds sailing over his head. Tamora's laser pistol. He ducked, hands over his cap, skittering over to the side.

But he was not Tamora's primary target.

Missing Turbo's body by mere millimeters—if that—three bottlecap-sized indentions smoldered into the wall, filling the air with the bittersweet smell of burnt chocolate. Turbo snapped into consciousness, eyes popping open, limbs flailing. He saw Tamora with her gun's sights pointed right at him and decided now would be a prime time to put his helmet back on. He snatched it off the floor and jammed it on his head, scooting as far back into the corner as he could possibly get.

His eyes darted from the mystery lady to Felix to the newfound holes in his wall, back to Felix, to the lady, to the bullet holes. To Felix.

"Rise and shine, milk-drinker," Tamora said, sliding her gun back into her holster.

Though still glazed with sleep, Turbo's eyes were wide with confusion and fear. "Felix?" he croaked. "Uh, who—who's ya friend, here?" Nervous giggles escaped his lips.

"Turbo," Felix said, trying and failing to force some utterance of cheer into his voice. "This is Tamora."

If Turbo's eyes became any wider, they were going to fall out of his sockets and into his lap.

"_She's _Tamora?"

Tamora took a step closer. Turbo winced.

"That's Sergeant Calhoun to you."

Turbo visibly swallowed. "N-nice to meet you, too," he hoo-hooed.

"Oh, look!" Felix exclaimed, again trying to sound much more enthused than he truly was. "You've got chairs in here now." He walked over to the items in question, inspecting the handiwork.

"Mm-hmm," Turbo hummed shakily. "Hey, you and your lady can have a seat, there…" His eyes darted to Tamora's pistol.

"Sitting down is good!" Felix nodded. Maybe bringing her down to their eye level would make her less prone to use her gun. Maybe. He had a seat himself, craning his neck up to Tamora to do the same.

"I'm not his 'lady,'" Tamora said. She made no move to sit. Her hand hovered over her pistol, as if in thought. "At least, I'm not anymore…as of about an hour ago. You wouldn't happen to know _why_, would you?" She cocked an eyebrow at Turbo.

"Who, me?" Turbo said, glancing around for anybody else that could be the offending party. He pointed a finger at his chest. "Eh-heh. I take it by the way you're talking that, uh…you and Felix aren't, hm-hmh, dating…anymore?"

"What's so funny, huh?" Tamora said, stepping closer. She bent her forefinger and thumb into the OK signal, then flicked Turbo on the tip of his nose. His eyes watered. "You think my love life is something comical?"

Turbo burst into a peal of giggles. "Hah-hah! No, no, whydja think somethin like that?" He waved his hands in front of him in defense, still laughing, unable to control himself. "I just laugh, hoo hoo, when I…get nervous."

She lowered her face to Turbo's, now mere inches apart, as if leaning in for some sugar. "I'm not making you nervous, am I, big guy?"

"Oh, extremely," he smiled, biting his lower lip.

She straightened herself back up. "Good. That's partly why I'm here. The other reason I made this little detour"—she crouched down into the other peppermint chair, though it was much too small for her—"is to find out some information."

"Oh…kay," Turbo said. He allowed himself to relax a little, the muscles in his shoulders loosening.

Felix couldn't imagine what she could be wanting to ask. It could be anything. He just hoped Turbo could control his temper when she asked whatever it was she wanted to know about. Tamora was none too shy when it came to asking personal questions, and Turbo was none too keen about answering them, so this would likely not end well. He wished he could think of something to get her off the subject, but there was nothing he could say that would make her stray from her objective—he knew that.

"My game was plugged in approximately two months ago," Tamora said. "And as such, I don't know much about the history of this arcade. Just what tiny bits of information _this _old-timer's been able to tell me." She cocked her head in Felix's direction.

"So," she continued, "I want you to fill me in on a few details."

_No_, Felix groaned inwardly. He caught Turbo's left eye twitch, just the tiniest little flicker of anger. But his face remained calm, albeit slightly nervous-looking.

"I guess I could do that," Turbo said, feigning confidence.

"Sure you can," Tamora said coolly. "Now. I want you to tell me…about how you and Felix met."

Turbo and Felix exchanged confused glances. It was obvious that neither of them thought that was where the conversation was heading.

"Oh, I could've told you that," Felix said, forcing a smile.

"I know," Tamora said. "But I don't want to hear it from you. I want to hear it from Boyfriend, here."

The slightest bit of a smile tugged at the corner of Turbo's mouth. Of course the racer would find some sort of glory in his new title, Felix thought. At least the feeling of impending violence somehow felt lessened.

_If he can remember_, Felix thought. _Oh, please let him remember._

"Alright, Sarge," Turbo said, cracking his knuckles. "I can do that, no prob."

Felix let out a sigh of relief as Turbo began to talk.

**{*}**

"Shotgun on the big bedroom!" Turbo yelled, bolting up the stairs. No sooner as he said those words did he feel the scruff of his racing suit being yanked backward. Axel and Rally, his stupid—_stupid_—older twin brothers, clambered past him.

Turbo grabbed blindly at a blue-suited pantleg, sending one of the twins flailing, and somehow the other had gotten knocked down in the skirmish—the three of them brawled on the stairway, all the while trying to scrape their way to the second floor.

Turbo emerged from the scrap victorious, coming out with little more than a throbbing jaw where Rally had clocked him a good one. He ran blindly into the first bedroom he came to. He couldn't be for sure, since he had nothing to compare it to, but it looked a little on the small side—

The door slammed shut behind him.

He tried the door handle, but _some asshole _was holding it in place. He screamed and cussed, pounding his fists into the door, rattling it on its hinges.

Rally could be heard giggling on the other side of the door. Turbo gritted his teeth together. Among a variety of colorful swear words that sounded almost like free-verse poetry, the phrases "not fair" and "I hate your guts" and "_totally _not fair" could be heard—which, of course, just made Rally laugh even harder.

Sometimes Turbo really hated being the little brother.

"Should we tell him?" he heard his other brother, Axel, say.

"Yeah," Rally replied, "I guess…"

One of them was trying the handle now, but Turbo wasn't about to let it go. His palms were burning, but he held it tight.

"Let go of the handle and I'll let you out," Rally said.

Grimacing, Turbo did as he was told. Axel and Rally were in the doorway, of course—grinning like idiots. He wanted to punch them.

"All the bedrooms are the same size," Axel laughed. "Dork."

"Nuh-uh," Turbo said, obviously not believing his brothers for a second. "You're lying." He squeezed between the two of them, making his way down the hall.

He looked for himself in the other two rooms—like he'd take the twins' word for anything—and surely enough, they were all roughly the same size. And he also discovered that each room had a race car bed. Two of them were blue, the other red. He, of course, chose the room with the red bed. It was in between his two brothers' rooms, yeah, but it was a price he'd have to pay for what he deemed the best room.

Turbo flopped down on the bed and splayed his arms and legs out, starfish-style. The mattress was so soft…much better than floating in Void. If he closed his eyes, and if his brothers would shut up for a few seconds, he could probably drift off to sleep.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, it was ripped away from him as he heard a tinny musical tune float through the house.

"The hell is that?" he said, sitting up.

He heard Axel and Rally emerging from their rooms. "I think it was the doorbell," Rally said. Turbo heard two pairs of feet descending the stairs.

He had peered out the screen of the _Turbo Time _cabinet and noticed that they were in some kind of building with other games plugged in alongside each other…places like that had a name, he knew they did, but he couldn't think of it. It only stood to reason that there were other characters out there besides himself and his brothers.

So that must be one of them.

Turbo would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to see who was at the door. He'd spent so much time floating in nothingness with just his two brothers that it would be radical to see somebody else. He hopped out of bed and bounded down the stairs. He knew he wouldn't beat his brothers there, but he still felt the need to race down. Racing was in his code, after all.

"So we open it, right?" Axel said, hand wavering above the door handle.

"Duh," Rally said. His voice sounded aloof, but his face deceived him. He was nervous about whoever was behind the door.

The doorbell rang again.

"Oh, for the love of—scoot over," Turbo said, bumping his brothers out of the way. He jerked the handle and swung the door open.

The first thing that caught Turbo's eye about the figure standing on their doorstep was his skin. It wasn't a sickly gray, like his and his brothers'—it was a light peach color. The next thing was his smile. It was a warm, welcoming grin, proudly displaying two rows of (white!) teeth.

"Hi, there, new neighbors!" the character before them said brightly. "My name is Fix-it Felix, Jr., from the game _Fix-it Felix, Jr._ But you can call me Felix for short.

I'd offer to shake hands, but," he chuckled, "I've got my hands full."

Turbo tore his eyes away from the hypnotic smile. Surely enough, this character—Felix—had brought a pie with him. At the sight of it, Turbo remembered the hungry knot in his belly.

"Aw, no way!" Axel said, beaming. "Ya didn't have to go and do that."

"It's no trouble, neighbor," he said. "The ladies in my game _love _baking pies."

The three of them introduced themselves, a little awkwardly because they'd never done it, and Felix reciprocated with "nice to meet you"s and "welcome to the arcade"s and whatnot. (_Arcade_. That's the word Turbo was trying to think of earlier.) Axel reached an arm out and pulled Turbo inside, ushering for Felix to do the same. He obliged, nodding his thanks as he crossed the threshold.

Their new kitchen was broken in with slices of pie and glasses of chocolate milk.

"Damn, dat's good," Axel said, mouth full. Rally hummed in agreement.

"What's in this?" Turbo asked, pointing at it with his fork.

He had programmed memories of food, but this was his first actual meal. Thick red liquid oozed from under the crust. He dabbed at it with his fork and put it in his mouth, letting the sweetness spread across his tongue. He quickly discovered that he _loved_ sugar. Whether that was pre-programmed within him or not, he had no idea.

"It's a strawberry-rhubarb pie," Felix answered. "My neighbor Mary tried out a new recipe, she said."

"Well, you tell Mary that this recipe's a keeper," Axel said.

"What's a rhubarb?" Turbo asked.

Felix furrowed his brow. "You know what? I don't know."

Felix stayed a little longer, filling them in on the details of the arcade. The four of them walked outside and he pointed to where he'd come in, explaining the tram system and Game Central Station. He told them about the arcade hours, quarter alerts, and general rules about how to conduct oneself during gameplay.

All-in-all, he was a pretty cool dude, Turbo thought. Old-fashioned, and a little too polite for his taste, but pretty cool. Then again, he was the first person besides his knuckleheaded brothers he'd ever met, so he might just have to see about that.

After many declined offers to wash the dishes he'd helped dirty, Felix made his leave, waving at least five hundred times as he walked.

"I like him," Rally said.

"But he's got me worried about the 'quarter alerts' and all that junk," Axel said. "What if we screw up, y'know?"

"Got _you _worried?" Turbo said. "All you two hafta do is try and beat me—which won't happen, by the way—but me…he said when somebody puts a quarter in our cabinet, they _control my body_." He rubbed his arms, as if he could feel himself losing control of his limbs already. "Kinda freaky."

"You'll get used to it, probably," Rally said.

Turbo grimaced. "Ugh. Maybe."

"Now for the important question, though," Axel said, clapping a hand on either of his brothers' shoulders. "Who gets that last slice of pie?"

"Felix clearly liked me the best, so it should be me," Turbo said.

"Why do you think he liked _you _the best?" Rally said.

"He talked to me more," Turbo said simply.

"That's because you wouldn't stop asking him all those stupid questions," Axel pointed out.

The three of them continued to bicker as the made their way inside their new home, their first meal in their guts and the thought of their first day on the job looming over them.

**{*}**

"And that's it, honestly," Turbo said, shrugging.

Felix couldn't help himself. He was grinning at the memory of his first encounter with Turbo and his brothers. There were lots of odd characters in the arcade, so he wasn't that shocked that their skin was gray and their sclera and teeth were pale yellow instead of white, but they were still a sight. He wondered absently which of them ended up getting that last slice of pie.

"So it wasn't love at first sight, huh?" Tamora asked.

"Nope."

"You two were friends before you started…dating."

"Oh yeah, we were pals for a _long _time," Turbo said, his voice sounding like he was boasting. He probably was, Felix thought. "And then we—"

"Okay, okay," Tamora said, holding a hand out in front of her to shush him. "Spare me the details, please."

"You don't wanna hear about"—Turbo clutched his hands at his heart and feigned a swoon—"our first kiss? I remembah it like it was yesterday. So much slobber everywhere…"

_Oh, please, no, Turbo_, Felix thought desperately. _Don't push her buttons, not today, not here, not now, please don't.._.

"I will shoot you," Tamora said.

Turbo stiffened. "Guess we'll save that story for a rainy day…heh."

Tamora scoffed. "You broke up with me for this guy?" Tamora said, jabbing a thumb in Turbo's direction. "Really?"

"Hey," Turbo said hotly.

"It's complicated," Felix admitted, wringing his hands together. Seemed he was doing that quite a bit, here lately.

"That would be the best way to describe it," Turbo agreed.

"Tell me something," Tamora said, directing the statement toward Turbo. "What is it you see in Felix? What do you like about him?"

Felix thought he could make out the tiniest hint of a blush crossing Turbo's cheeks. Then again, Turbo wasn't much of a blusher. Not many things embarrassed or bothered him, since he was so nonchalant about…pretty much everything. But the question had obviously caught him off-guard.

He regained his composure quickly, however. Felix half-wished he hadn't; an over-confident Turbo was more likely to set Tamora off, which would not end well. Felix tried to brace himself for whatever retort was about to come out of the racer's mouth.

"What do I like about him? You wanna hear some mushy-gushy stuff, huh?" he smirked.

"Let me rephrase that," Tamora said with a grimace. "What do you like _best _about him?"

Turbo sat in silence for a few seconds, apparently in thought. He looked over at Felix and shot him a quick grin. Somehow, it was reassuring.

"Well, the obvious answer is that he's just so nice," Turbo said. "For one thing, I mean, look at me." He extended his arms in a _ta-da _fashion. "Since this is honesty hour, here, I'm not the biggest prize in the looks department."

"You got that right," Tamora remarked.

"_Anyway_," Turbo went on, scowling, "if you're wanting a more deep answer, here…I guess our personalities just _click_ or something, Iunno how to explain it, really…" He scratched his cheek in thought. "Like…y'know the usual cliché shit, we can talk for hours about nothing, we have fun doing pretty much anything, yadda yadda."

_He was almost romantic_, Felix thought, sighing inwardly.

Tamora turned to Felix. The intensity of her stare made Felix want to squirm away into the corner.

"You're being awfully quiet."

"I'm just listening," Felix said.

"And what are you thinking of these answers?"

"Very proud that he's not making an idiot out of himself," Felix said.

"You're welcome," Turbo said, grinning.

"What else?" Tamora prodded.

"I…I'd have to say I agree with everything he's said so far," Felix said. Honestly, he didn't know what kind of answer Tamora was looking for, but it seemed to satisfy her. She nodded thoughtfully.

"So you're _not _going to assassinate me," Turbo said.

Tamora stood up, stretched, rolled her shoulders a few times. "Not today," she said. "But you're not off my radar just yet."

Before Turbo could open his mouth to retort something that would probably get his jaws boxed, Felix interjected, "Well! This went much better than I thought it would. I have to say I'm relieved."

"Yeah," Turbo said, "no bloodshed, can ya believe it?"

"Not really," Felix admitted, smiling in relief.

"Don't misunderstand me," Tamora said to Turbo. "You're not in the clear, not by far. I will be keeping _very _close tabs on you. One slip-up out of you and I'll make sure you never see the light of day again, nonetheless Fix-it, here. You got that?"

"I got that," Turbo nodded.

Felix could tell he was fighting back a smile. He always managed to turn bad situations into funny ones, to make them easier for him to deal with, Felix guessed. The urge to laugh this one off was probably strong in him at that moment. But Turbo was conducting himself pretty well, all things considered.

"All right," Tamora said. "I think I'm done, here, for today."

_'For today'? _Felix thought.

"Come back any time," Turbo deadpanned.

Felix turned automatically to leave, but Turbo hollered for him to stop.

"And where do you think you're going?" Turbo said. "Get back here."

Felix peered up at Tamora, who merely shrugged. "Don't look at me, I'm not your girlfriend anymore, remember? You do what you want."

That stung. Felix wanted to apologize, beg for mercy, something—but Tamora reached down and pushed the bill of his hat over his eyes.

"I'll see you around, Short-Stack," she said, turning on a heel, making her exit.

Turbo hopped off the bed and watched her leave. Wynchel and Duncan, sitting in metal chairs on either side of the cell door, watched her go, too, then turned to waggle their eyebrows at each other.

"_What the hell was that?_" Turbo whined, throwing his hands in the air. Then he'd apparently noticed something—his hands weren't bound behind his back this time. His anger dissolved and was replaced with something not unlike joy.

He threw his wrists out in front of him and studied them. He beamed. He threw Felix into a smothering embrace, mumbling things Felix couldn't understand into the handyman's shoulder.

Then, of course, the anger resurfaced. "Wait a minute, here, I forgot! I'm mad at you!"

"I didn't know she would come here!" Felix said. "I took her on a date to—to break up with her, actually, and she decided to come here on her own!"

Turbo looked drained. He groaned. "I thought she was gonna kill me with that gun, I swear. I woulda just respawned, but that's not the point." He crossed his arms. "Still would've hurt."

"I'm sorry," Felix said, though he didn't know what he was sorry for.

Turbo softened, uncrossing his arms to flap a dismissive hand. "No, no, you didn't do anything."

Then Turbo looked down at his wrists again. "I just can't believe this," he said, turning them round and round. He wrapped Felix in another hug, this one no tenderer than the last.

But it felt nice.

"I'm sure they'll chain me up good 'n' tight next time, so I have to get this outta my system," he said to Felix's shoulder.

Felix patted him reassuringly on the back. Turbo might be a bipolar maniac, but…he was an awfully sweet bipolar maniac when he wanted to be. He allowed himself a contented sigh.

Things seemed to be panning out better than expected, after all. He knew he wasn't out of the woods just yet, but the Tamora ordeal was a step in the right direction, he thought. Maybe he could salvage a friendship with her…maybe not…he'd just have to see. And as for Turbo, well…he still had a lot of things he wanted to discuss with him, definitely, but it could wait. Tamora had been a pretty big shock, there was no doubt about that. They could talk about more serious matters another day.

Felix had learned that he needed to take small victories when he could grab them. For now, this hug was plenty enough for him.

* * *

**Ending Author's Note: **So I always try to add just a little humor into my chapters, because I am the kind of person that takes nothing seriously, to a fault. You can expect some out-of-character-ness in all fanfiction you read, but I hope mine wasn't too bad. (That's always a concern of mine.) And I'll be honest, I haven't started on the next chapter yet, but I promise I'll work on it. Thank you so much for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

"Okay," Vanellope said, cracking her knuckles. "Time to get to work on…"

She craned her neck up, looking at the foot-high stack of documents atop her desk.

"…this," she grumbled.

To reach the top of the pile, Vanellope had to stand on top of her chair on tiptoe. She blindly grabbed a handful of paper and tossed it down to her workspace.

"All right," she said as she hopped into a sitting position, shifting around to get herself comfy. She picked up the first document in front of her, a paperclipped bundle about fifteen pages thick. "I can do this."

She picked up a pen and guided the tip under each word, mouthing out the syllables. On her fifth word, she stopped.

"Hey, Sourpuss, where'dja run off to? You in here?"

Sour Bill shuffled through the open doorway, a pink feather duster in hand. "Yes, Miss President?"

She shook her head at him, grinning. "I've told you a hundred times to cut it out with formal junk," she said. "Vanellope is fine. Really."

"My apologies, Miss…Vanellope."

"Hey, I got a question for ya," she said, returning her attention to the task at hand. "What does"—she tipped her head down to the document—"R-E-Q-U-S-I-T-S—wait, hang on." She scrunched her nose. "Let me start over."

She grabbed her pen again, running the nib under each letter. "What does R-E-Q-U-I-S-I-T-I-O-N spell?"

"'Requisition,' Miss."

"What's that mean?"

Though he'd never voice it out loud, Sour Bill could tell he was going to be there awhile. He left his feather duster propped in the doorway and crossed the room to have a seat.

Vanellope's office décor was fashioned after vanilla orchids—simple, yet somehow elegant, pale-yellow blooms. It wasn't exactly candy, but then again, Vanellope never was very keen about following the norm.

Bill seated himself in a cushy yellow chair embroidered with the flower of choice. "'Requisition' is a word they use a lot in the _Sugar Rush _paperwork," he began to explain. "You'll see it when citizens are requesting—uh, wanting—something. About half the time, it's repairs."

Vanellope nodded as he spoke, trying her best to absorb the new information. "Requisition. They want something. Requi_sition_. Got it."

She went back to reading, her eyes squinted in concentration. She lasted about fifteen more seconds before she had to stop again.

"_Ugggh_," she groaned. "Okay, Sour Bill, I got another one."

"Yes, Vanellope?"

"What does"—she spelled out the complicated word—"spell?"

Sour Bill smiled to himself. He couldn't fault her for trying. "'Dilapidated,'" he said. "It's a fancy word for 'old.'"

"Really?" Vanellope said, scoffing. "Requisition, dilapidated, why don't they just write what they're actually trying to say?"

"I don't know."

She sighed. "All right…here I go again." She resumed her reading, squinting her eyes in concentration.

Two pairs of footsteps could be heard trotting up to the open doorway. Two Oreo guards came into view.

"Miss President?" the one on the left called.

"The one and only," Vanellope replied, inwardly relieved at having a distraction from the paperwork. She lay down her pen. "C'mon in, so we don't hafta shout at each other."

The Oreo guards walked in, lowering their spear points to the floor. "Swizzle Malarkey is in the main chamber, Miss President," the left Oreo said. "He wishes to speak with you."

"What, did he crash his kart into a bajillion pieces again?" Vanellope giggled.

"Actually, yes," the right Oreo said.

Her mouth fell open. "You're kiddin me! This'll be the _second _time, just this week!" She pushed herself away from the desk, hopping out of her office chair. "All right, I'll go talk to him. See what he got himself into this time." With a smile and a wave she gave the guards her thanks, and with that, they departed.

She glanced at the clock. Seven-something PM. "I hope Beard Papa's not asleep already…we'll hafta fire up the Kart Bakery, I guess."

"Let me tend to it, Miss—Vanellope," Sour Bill said, sliding out of his seat, too. "At the very least, those top four documents have to be amended and either approved or denied by tomorrow morning."

"Can't _you _do the paperwork and _me _go to the kart bakery with Swizz?" she pleaded, sticking her lower lip out.

"I would if I could," Sour Bill said, "but only you can officiate those documents."

"But I can't read em without you here, I don't know half the words they say!"

This wasn't the first time a dilemma like this had happened, where Vanellope was needed in two places at once, but Sour Bill could usually take care of the other task at hand. But they'd never encountered an ordeal like this one. Bill put a hand under his chin in thought. "Well, I suppose you could go with Swizzle to the Kart Bakery now, and I could wait here for you."

"Yeah, but the last time this happened, Swizz took _forever _designing his kart," Vanellope said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "He kept failing the mini-games, and when he finally passed em he always found something wrong. We scrapped _two _karts before he was happy.

Who knows how long he'll take tonight…and then I've gotta come back and do that." She cocked her head at the tower of paperwork on top of her desk. As if anticipating an all-nighter, she yawned. "And I'm already getting kinda sleepy, too." She tried to rub the tiredness from her eyes with her fists. "Being President is a lotta hard work, huh?" she grinned at the green candy.

This seemed to illuminate something within Sour Bill's mind.

"I have a suggestion for you…but I don't think you're going to like it."

She had already started bounding for the door, but at Sour Bill's voice, she stopped midway. "Kay," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Lemme hear it."

"There _is _someone who knows all about this paperwork…and since you've got so much of it that has to be done by tomorrow morning, he may be persuaded to help you…"

Vanellope's normally bright eyes darkened.

"Oh, no. No way, crème brûlée." She waved her arms out in front of her, as if warding off bad spirits. "I'd never ask _that_ guy for a favor in a million-trillion years. Like he'd do it, anyway."

She started walking for the door again. "I'll be back as soon as I can. We'll get it all done. Promise."

Sour Bill nodded, not bothering to hide the worry from his face.

**{*}**

A tiny hand jostled her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Miss President, but I'm going to have to wake you."

Vanellope sat up with a start, wiping a line of spit from her chin with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," Sour Bill repeated. "I let you sleep for 20 more minutes. But you really must finish this paperwork, lest the citizens be in an uproar. We can't put it off any longer."

"Right, rightrightright," she said, sleep still coating her voice. She propped her head up in the hand not holding her pen. "Mmkay. Twizzler bridge to cross the part of the chocolate milk river that goes through…where, again?" Bleary-eyed, she looked down at the first document,

which she and Sour Bill had read less than half of. After suffering through the first page with her limited reading skills, she decided it would be better to have Sour Bill read it aloud to her. He sat on her desk, over to her left.

He scanned the document for the answer she was needing. "Um…it doesn't exactly say…maybe it's on one of the next pages. Go ahead and turn the page."

But Vanellope made no move to turn any page.

"Vanellope?"

As a response, she let out a soft snore through her nostrils.

"Poor thing," Sour Bill muttered. He tapped her on the shoulder again.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking a few times. "Ah, geez, I'm sorry, Sour Bill. I guess it's a little past my bedtime." She smacked her lips together. "Let's see, where were we? Oh, yeah. The Nerds Rope bridge."

"The Twizzler bridge," Sour Bill gently corrected.

"Same thing," she giggled. "And you said what? Turn the page, right?" Without waiting for a response, she turned the document over to the next page.

"Well, at least this page has a picture on it," Vanellope sighed, looking at the diagram for the bridge. "Okay, get to reading, Sourpuss. I promise to stay awake this time."

But it was no use. The material Sour Bill was reading was dryer than Nesquick-sand. She actually had to pinch herself to keep herself awake.

"Ow."

A few seconds later: "Ow."

And not long after that: "Ow."

Sour Bill looked up from the paper and shook his head disapprovingly at her. "Miss—Vanellope. I'm afraid at the rate we're going, you'll be in no condition to race tomorrow."

"I know," she groaned. "I'm gonna suck big-time eggs, I can already tell." She yawned. "I hope nobody in the Player's World notices the bags under my eyes."

Sour Bill took a tentative breath. "We've got a long night ahead of us. After we read over this document, we've still got to make amendments to it. You've got to really think about whether or not you want to approve it, and what you would change to make it to your liking."

"Sour Bill, I don't know any of this stuff," she said, rubbing fitfully at her eyes. "I mean, I kinda do, but not this _technical _junk." She rested the side of her head on the table. "Just between you and me, being President is pretty hard work."

"I know it is," Sour Bill said, truly sympathetic for the child, but his monotone voice didn't exactly convey it in the way he'd hoped it might.

"But," Sour Bill began, "since it's so late an hour…and you _do _have to race tomorrow morning…why don't we let…_someone_…help you with this? Loath though I am to admit it, he truly does know what he's doing when it comes to this."

Vanellope raised her head from the desk, scowling. "If you think I'm asking _that _jerkwad for help, you've—you're wrong." She was too tired to think of a fitting response. That would have to do. "I can do this. _We _can do this. We got this."

So they returned to their work, Vanellope paying attention well, until they were half-through with reading the document and the clock struck one AM.

"_One_?" Vanellope said in disbelief. "This is the latest I've ever stayed up. I'm ready for some shuteye, big time."

"Forgive me for being too forward," Sour Bill said, "but at the rate we're going, we'll never get these done in time. There's just too much of it."

"Surely the citizens will understand, won't they? We worked hard, they can wait one more day, right?"

"Well," Sour Bill said, wringing his jellybean hands together. "We've sort of…put these documents off for four weeks now."

Vanellope blanched. "Four weeks! I didn't know I'd put em off _that _long!" She clenched her fists together. "Okay, so they really _do _have to be done by tomorrow, or I'll have a riot on my hands."

"It's…it's possible, Miss. You've promised them to have them done no later than tomorrow—well, technically _today_."

Vanellope stared at the stack of papers in front of her. She wanted to cry. Any other girl her age facing this level of stress and responsibility would have. But she wasn't about to bawl at a time like this. She needed to get to work.

"Forgive me for what I'm about to say," Sour Bill said, "but I think we're going to need Turbo's help if we're going to get this done in seven hours."

"No!" she yelled, slapping a tiny hand on the desk. "I won't do it! I—"

Again, her line of vision trailed to the stack of papers, then over to the clock on the wall. She'd have to be a time-traveler to get this all done by herself.

"I can take them to his cell," Sour Bill offered. "He wouldn't have to come here. You wouldn't have to see him. I'll look over his work myself and make sure he does it right."

"Even if I _did _say yes," Vanellope said, "there's no way that—that—I can't even think of a good insult right now would do it. He'd rather be locked up in solitary than help me, I'm sure he would."

"Well, then…offer him a…_small _reward."

Vanellope laughed. It was one of those crazy laughs one adopts when one is extremely sleep-deprived.

"Sour Bill, you've gone off the deep end, for real this time." For the umpteenth time, she yawned. "I'd never _reward _him. Over my glitched body."

"It wouldn't have to be anything large," Bill said. "He's so desperate in there I'm sure he'd take anything."

Though she'd never say it out loud, Vanellope was thinking about it now. She'd _sure _like to go to sleep right about now…

"Wait," she said. "So if we're gonna let _him _do it, then why couldn't _you _just do it for me?" Vanellope said. "You know, me sign em after you're through. Nobody has to know that it wasn't actually me, right?"

That point had come up earlier, but he'd been able to explain it away with the simple, yet truthful, fact that he wasn't allowed to do it. Now he'd have to explain in more honest detail.

"I'm no good at this paperwork, either," he admitted. "and you'll hate me for saying this, so just get ready for it—but nobody knows Sugar Rush better than Turbo. He'll be able to read these papers and know exactly what needs to go where, who needs what, how to reference the current supply catalogue, how to balance our yearly budget, and so on. He, uh…did it for quite a long time, Miss."

Vanellope's mouth was nothing but a line scarring her small face. "And you say he won't do it without a reward, huh?"

"Don't worry," Bill said. "I've got something in mind." He told her his idea. She laughed at it, saying it would never work, but he insisted it would.

"Well, if he can really be bought that easily," Vanellope said, "why the heck not? It's late, I'm tired, and I'd much rather that dweeb put himself to good use than me tucker myself out. Promise you'll look over his work, though, okay?"

"Of course."

"And make sure he knows we're ordering him to do this, and he is _totally _not doing me a favor."

"Naturally."

"And also tell him I hate him."

"I can do that."

"Then I'll leave ya to it, Sourpuss," she said, rolling her chair away from the desk and sliding out of it. "I've gotta hurry up and get some shuteye."

**{*}**

Sour Bill didn't dare wake up Wynchel or Duncan at this late of an hour. True, they were cops, and should be expecting a few late-night calls, but that didn't mean they'd take kindly to them. Instead, Bill opted to take one of the Oreo guards from the courtyard as his escort. It was partly to ensure Turbo didn't run out of the cell door and never look back, but it was more because he wasn't tall enough to reach the hook the key to the cell was hanging on, or any of the light switches. The Oreos weren't much taller than him, but at least they had a spear they could use for an extra-long arm.

To unlock the cell door, Sour Bill had to stand on the Oreo guard's back, which was awkward for both parties, but it got the job done. He pushed the door open the rest of the way and slid a medium-sized box inside along with him.

Turbo was sleeping soundly on his side, facing the doorway. Sour Bill shuffled up to him and gave him a few hard taps on the shoulder.

"Wake up, sir—Turbo." Good thing Vanellope wasn't around to hear him say that.

"Five more minuteth, Thour Bill," he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

More harsh taps on Turbo's shoulder.

"Wake _up_."

Turbo rolled onto his back, shielding his eyes from the light. "I'm getting my beauty retht—not that I need it." He hoo-hooed sleepily.

Sour Bill rolled his eyes. He pinched Turbo's cheek and pulled. Hard.

Before Bill had a chance to let go of Turbo's cheek, the racer shot up into a sitting position, scowling. The green candy tumbled gracelessly into his lap.

"What'th the big deal, Thour Bill?" he growled. "I—"

Once the confusion of being ripped from sleep left him, Turbo looked around at his surroundings. He groaned.

"Y'know, for a split second, there," he said, making a conscious effort to bite back the lisp that had reared its head, "I thought I was back in my old bedroom." He sighed, and Sour Bill thought he could detect a note of sadness.

"I'm here on official business," Sour Bill explained, hopping out of Turbo's lap.

"Ah, great," Turbo grimaced. "What now?"

Sour Bill briefly explained to Turbo about Vanellope's falling behind with the paperwork, and how it'd come to the point where it could wait no longer. The more Sour Bill talked, the more smug Turbo's grin grew.

"So you need my help, huh?" he said. "That's very interesting. Too bad I've got more important things to do." He turned his back to Sour Bill, snuggling into the fetal position on his bunk. "It was nice chatting with ya. G'night."

"I thought you'd say that," Sour Bill said, "which is why I've brought a bribe."

That piqued Turbo's interest. He rolled back over and sat up. "Is that what's in that box, there?"

"Mostly. Some of it's paperwork, but the rest is…"

But Bill stopped mid-sentence. Turbo scrambled past him, undoing the box flaps with the fervor of—well, honestly, it looked like he was King Candy on his birthday. (Did King Candy and Turbo have the same birthday? Sour Bill sort of wanted to ask.)

"Hey, you brought some good junk!" he said, unable to hide his excitement. "I know it's all from the lost-and-found," he said, giving Bill a sly look, "but at this point in my life, eh-hoo, I really don't care."

He pawed eagerly through the box, slapping the stack of papers to the floor without a second glance. "Legos!—ooh, Jenga, haven't played that in a _long _time—Pretty Pretty Princess I could probably do without, but—hey, I remember these!" He shook the Magic 8 Ball in his hand like a madman. "Will I ever get out of this hell-hole? Will I, huh?" He turned the ball over, letting the bobber float to the top.

"Check it out, Sour Bill, it says, '_It is decidedly so_.'" He grinned triumphantly.

"Wonderful," Sour Bill said.

Turbo sifted through the rest of the goodies, about half of it being board games (and a couple puzzles, Sour Bill saw).

"Hmm," Turbo said. "This is a pretty good bribe…except for one thing."

"And what is that?" Sour Bill asked carefully.

"As you know, I actually do get a visitor down here in this hole, and pretty regularly, too," the racer said. "These board games would actually come in handy. Except for one thing—my hands are always cuffed behind my back when they let him in." He raised his eyebrows at the green candy. "You followin me, kemosabe?"

"You want me to talk to Wynchel and Duncan?" Sour Bill said.

"I want you to do more than talk."

"I don't think they'll agree to do that, given your…felonious status."

"Well, then, have your"—he grimaced—"_princess_ overrule em. Easy-peasy."

"President," Bill corrected.

"Ugh, whatever."

Sour Bill thought. He hadn't exactly mentioned that part to Vanellope, but he didn't really see any harm in it, so long as Fix-it Felix was fine being left vulnerable to Turbo's murderous hands.

"I suppose President Vanellope would agree to that," he said.

"Great! Now for this," he said, picking up the stack of papers. He riffled through them as he sat in one of the peppermint chairs he was forbidden to sit in. Sour Bill frowned at him for that, but didn't say anything. He didn't want to risk Turbo going back on his decision.

"Ah, memories," Turbo hummed. He held his palm out, eyes glued to the paper. "Pen, please."

Sour Bill dug through the box until he found one. He handed it to the other man. "Just like old times," he droned. "You ordering me around."

"Innit, though?" Turbo smiled, almost warmly.

**{*}**

"Twizzler bridge?" Turbo said, throwing up a hand. "Can they not just walk around? It'd take them ten whole seconds to walk around that lake." He shook his head. "Idiots. Definitely a"—he wrote two huge letters taking up the entirety of the page—"_no _on that one." He flipped to the back page, and signed his signature: _King Candy, _he wrote in loopy script, complete with a little crown for the dot of the i.

"Don't _sign _it, you moron!" Sour Bill said.

Turbo opened his mouth to argue, but after a half-second of thought, he shut it. "Oh, yeah." He laughed. "Whoops."

He tossed the paper to his feet. "Next!"

"More funding for the Bubblegum Bayou fire department…'kay…" Papers flipping. "It's in the budget, why not." He wrote a few notes, but this time, he didn't sign it at the end. "Next!"

"Beard Papa wants a raise." He looked at Sour Bill. "Does he deserve a raise?"

"He has been having to work harder, as of late."

"Hmm…" He flipped back to the budget report. He held his hand out. "Got a calculator?"

Luckily, Sour Bill had thought to bring one. He put it in the racer's hand. Turbo typed some numbers in, scribbled a few things on the page, typed more numbers in.

"Fifteen percent is the best we can do for this year."

"I'm sure he'll be happy with that, sir—Turbo."

Turbo smirked. He loved being called "sir," Sour Bill could tell.

"Great. Next!"

Turbo zipped through the four documents that were due to be finished within the next few hours. Sour Bill looked over his work, nodding as he did so. Though he didn't want to admit it, Turbo had done a more than exceptional job, with detailed amendment notes, counteroffers, and even a brief yet courteous rejection statement where necessary.

"I think you've earned your box of knickknacks," Sour Bill said.

"_Don't _forget what I said about the handcuffs, though," Turbo said, hopping off the chair to dig into his new-old goodies. "Talk to whoever you gotta talk to. Seriously. I'm gonna whip Felix's ass at _Jenga_."

"Fine, fine," Sour Bill said, picking up the papers. "Had I known you'd be done this quickly, I'd have brought the rest of the stack."

"There's _more_?" Turbo said, brow furrowing. "She's really letting her work stack up, huh?"

"She's only eight."

"Exactly," Turbo deadpanned. "Whose bright idea was it to let an eight-year-old run this place, anyway? I give it two years, tops, before Sugar Rush is overrun with anarchy. And you'll be begging me to come back and restore order." He gave Sour Bill a smug smile.

"I see prison hasn't made you any less full of yourself," Bill said, shaking his head. "Oh, and that reminds me. President Vanellope says to tell you she hates you."

Turbo smiled brightly, tilting his head. "Aww. Well, in that case, can you give her something for me?" He stuck his middle finger up on either hand.

Sour Bill shook his head, exiting the cell. He'd say that some people never change, but he could actually notice a subtle difference in Turbo. He was still arrogant, rude, childish, et cetera, but…he _was_ holding his temper better.

Hopefully Fix-it Felix would rub off on him some more.

**{*}**

Felix gripped the wooden block between his thumb and forefinger. He bit his lower lip in concentration. Handyman that he was, he knew if he moved this one, it would make the whole foundation even more unstable, but—

He felt a hand tickling at his ribcage. He tried to giggle without moving any part of his body whatsoever, which is definitely easier said than done.

With his free hand, he slapped blindly at the offending figure over to his left.

"Stop, stop," he muttered, still trying his best to concentrate, but he was smiling anyway. "You're cheating."

"Am not," Turbo said, but Felix felt the hand leave his ribcage. He took this small window of opportunity to ever-so-gently slide the wooden block from the structure. It wobbled dangerously for one, two seconds, but it stood strong.

Felix smiled proudly. "There. Your turn."

"Watch how the master does it," Turbo said. He put his finger on a block at the very bottom. His hands were free of their cuffs, thankfully, but his ankles were still shackled. Felix supposed he understood that part, though.

"I wouldn't move that one," Felix warned.

"Shh, I got this."

Turbo pulled the block away from the tower, smiling victoriously. Not a half-second afterward, the tower collapsed into a clattering heap of wood.

Felix had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at Turbo's dejected expression.

"You know what that means, don't you?" Felix said, grinning.

"Don't say it." Turbo covered his helmet's ear-holes.

Felix laughed through his nostrils. "I win."

"Awright, so you're good at _one _game," Turbo said sourly, but he was grinning all the same. He scooped up the _Jenga_ pieces and threw them in their tub. "Let's play somethin else. I'll even let you pick, cause I'm so nice."

Felix ran his eyes over the stack of games against the cell wall.

"Most of these are a little…after my time," he admitted. The Nicelanders had board games, their favorite being Monopoly, but they definitely didn't have any of the ones he was looking at. They were a little too fun for their tastes.

He picked a box at random, sliding it from the middle of the stack. He sat it between him and Turbo.

"Good choice, Mistah Fix-it," Turbo said, taking the lid off the _Operation_ box. "This is Taffyta's favorite game, so I've played this a _lot_." He flashed the handyman a devilish grin.

Felix thought it was sweet that Turbo (well—King Candy, if you wanted to get technical about it) used to take time about to play games with the Sugar Rush kids. But he didn't dare say that out loud. He didn't figure Turbo would fancy being called "sweet."

"See, ya take these little tweezer things, and…"

Maybe Felix should let Turbo win this one.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Another long chapter. I for real don't think they're all gonna be this long...I'll just have to see where it goes, I guess. And there wasn't any romance in this one...? Dang. I had planned for there to be, but it felt out of place, so I erased it (of course I did, I erase everything five hundred times before I'm happy with it). Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it! I hope it wasn't too lame, haha.


	13. Chapter 13

They didn't dare come out of hiding unless it was nighttime. And as such, it was pretty hard to see, especially in the sea of junk they lived in, but there was no mistaking—

"No way," he muttered, running his hand over the smooth candy surface of the kart. He trotted to the next one, and the next. All three of them were identical, save for a few minor cosmetic details. He wondered if…

"Hey, c'mere!" he half-whispered. When he got no response, he meandered around the winding trails of junk until he found the only other inhabitant in the junkyard.

"Axel," he hissed.

Axel lifted his head up from his current task at hand—fashioning an oversized Jolly Ranchers wrapper into a bow tie.

"Yeah?"

"You're not gonna believe what I just found," Rally said, unable to hide the excitement from his voice.

"If this is another candy coon nest—"

"It's not a candy coon nest," Rally deadpanned. "Just c'mon."

Axel dropped his half-finished craft project and tagged at his twin's heels, following him back through the junkyard. Rally led him up and over a hill, into a sizeable pit, where the three racing karts were parked.

"Whoa," Axel said, face spreading into a smile. He skidded down through the junk, his hands coming to rest on the hood of the first kart he came to.

"What kinda candy is this supposed to be, anyway?" Axel said, rapping his knuckles on the glossy surface. "Suckers?"

"Yeah, I think it's the real long ones, y'know what I'm talkin about? Like, the ones that look like a horn?"

Axel turned his head this way and that, looking at the kart's construction. "Oh, yeah. What're those called, again?"

"Unicorn pops," they said in unison.

"Surely we could fix em up," Axel said excitedly, diving into the driver's seat. "There's enough stuff around here that I bet we could—hey, wait a minute." He'd noticed that, amazingly enough, the key was still in the ignition. He put a cautious hand on it.

"Should I?" he asked Rally.

Rally smirked and nodded.

Axel turned the key, and the engine screamed to life. His mouth dropped open.

"Can you believe it?" he said, turning his head to look at his brother, but Rally was gone. He scrambled into one of the other two karts, firing up the engine.

"Why would they throw these out?!" Rally yelled over the noise of the kart, forgetting that he was supposed to be as quiet as possible.

Axel put a cautious foot on the accelerator, revving the engine ever-so-slightly. Sounded good to him.

"No idea!" he hollered back.

Rally shifted the kart into drive, easing it up beside his brother's. Axel looked at him like he was a lunatic.

"Should we?" he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"We can't," Axel said. "We'll wake up the whole kingdom."

"Not if we just ride in em for a couple minutes," Rally reasoned.

Axel bit his lip, running his hands along the steering wheel.

"Y'know, it's usually me who has the stupid ideas," he said, grinning.

"I knew you'd see it my way."

They shifted the karts into drive and rocketed over the hill, bits of candy rubble kicking up in a spray of debris from underneath their tires. The path they made to walk through the junkyard was only one "lane" wide (they never expected to race through it, naturally), so they battled for the lead by running over and along the piles of trash.

Axel disappeared from view, going off in a seemingly different direction. But Rally knew the junkyard layout well. He was going to try and head him off at the dropoff area coming up—

_Nyoom! _Axel descended down a hill and past Rally in a flurry of cookie-earth crumbs. Rally blinked them out of his eyes and licked them off his lips, hunkering down behind the steering wheel, sneering. Now it was personal. He slammed the accelerator to the floorboard.

They made four laps around the junkyard before Rally had the sense to stop. He parked the kart beside the little lean-to that the two of them called home. It took Axel a good twenty seconds to realize he no longer had a competitor, but when he did, he double-backed and parked his kart, as well.

"I forgot how fun that was," Rally said, sighing.

"I know," Axel sympathized. "I just wish—"

Rally held up a hand. "Don't say it. I know what you're thinkin." After all, there had been _three _karts, not just two. If only they could find him…

"He woulda loved it more than me and you put together," Axel said sadly, stepping out of the kart.

Rally nodded. "Yeah. For sure." He hopped out of his kart, again running his hand over the handiwork. It made him remember Blue Throttle, his old kart from back in the day. He pursed his lips.

"So," Rally said, "should we hide these, or…?"

"Who's gonna find em?" Axel said. "Nobody ever comes out here."

"That cookie dude, to dump the trash," Rally reminded him.

"Surely he won't come out this far," Axel said, shrugging. "I think they'll be all right. And as much as I wanna take this thing for another spin, we better not."

"Yeah," Rally agreed. "We already made too much noise, I think."

"It's all your fault," Axel grinned.

Rally punched his brother in the arm, and none too gently, either. "Shaddup."

The two of them went back to their own devices, Axel with his candy wrapper bowtie, Rally with his prowling (he was looking for some flat pieces to make replacement roof tiles for the ones Axel had broken, which was a long and stupid story). But both of them knew where they'd rather be, and that was back behind the wheel, navigating those karts.

If only their little bro was there to share their bittersweet joy.

**{*}**

The light clicked on in Vanellope's face. She thrashed her head over and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Three-something AM.

She threw the comforter over her head, only to have it yanked back down.

"Vanellope," Sour Bill said, "it's been brought to my attention that there is a…disturbance."

She sighed audibly. "Good grief. This late at night?" She hopped out of bed, rubbing at her eyes. "What kinda 'disturbance,' anyway?"

"There have been several complaints that—"

"_This _late?"

"Yes, that there is some kind of commotion going on in the junkyard. Sounds like kart engines, they say."

Vanellope crossed the room to her chest of drawers, grabbing up her hooded jacket, her pleated skirt, her stockings. "All right, we'll go investigate. Just lemme throw these on." She bounded off into her en suite to change.

**{*}**

"Whoever's racing at three in the ding-dang morning is gonna have an earful from me," she said, hopping into Frankenkart, Sour Bill sitting beside her. "And maybe a faceful. Of my fist."

Wynchel and Duncan followed close behind her on their motorcycles as she and Bill sped out of the castle. Vanellope doubted they'd be of any help, but Sour Bill had suggested it, and she supposed it wouldn't hurt for them to tag along.

"Don't they know they can't do that?" she said to Bill, turning her kart onto the road that would lead them straight to the junkyard. "They're bound to wake at least a _few _of the districts up with all that noise, sheesh."

"I don't know, Vanellope," Sour Bill said, shaking his head.

They reached the junkyard entrance, and immediately, Vanellope noticed what looked like fresh tire tracks going every whichway along a makeshift path.

Wynchel and Duncan idled their motorcycles alongside Frankenkart, apparently noticing the same thing Vanellope had.

"There's definitely been some racing going on here tonight," Duncan said.

"Well, whoever did it's probably long-gone," Wynchel said, "but we'll take a quick look around, anyway."

"That's kind of the whole point of coming out here," Vanellope whispered to Sour Bill. Sour Bill actually laughed a little at that.

Wynchel and Duncan took it upon themselves to take the lead, and Vanellope was too sleepy to argue. She puttered behind them as they drove at a snail's pace, stopping every once in a while to shine their flashlights around. Vanellope took her own flashlight and shined it this way and that, for no real reason other than the fact that she was bored. She didn't expect to see anything.

Except she did.

"Did you see that?" she said to Sour Bill.

"I did," he said. "It looked like a pair of eyes. Might've just been an animal, though."

"Yeah…" Vanellope said, but it didn't look much like an animal to her. "Go to the right up here, guys."

They all went in the direction Vanellope had thought she'd seen something, stopping more frequently to check their surroundings. Eventually they came to a dead end, but they weren't disappointed in their findings.

"Well," Duncan said, dismounting his motorcycle, "looks like we found the karts everybody heard out here."

"But these are Swizzle's old karts," Wynchel said, coming to stand by the other donut, shining his light on first one kart, then another.

"We just made these the other night," Vanellope said, hopping out of Frankenkart, Sour Bill in tow. "What the heck? D'you think somebody could…be…"

She trailed off. Her flashlight beam came to rest on a small shack, well-built, but definitely constructed by amateurs. It reminded her of the place she used to live, in Diet Cola Mountain.

"Somebody lives here," she said, taking a step toward the structure, but Sour Bill grabbed her by the jacket-sleeve.

"Careful," he said. "Let Wynchel and Duncan look it over."

But before anybody could do any looking over, two figures burst out of the lean-to, making a mad dash for the karts. Running, however, was apparently not their best skill. Wynchel and Duncan had them chased down, tackled, and cuffed before Vanellope had time to react to the situation.

_Maybe those knuckleheads really do know what they're doing_, Vanellope thought as she crept closer to the intruders.

She shined her light on their faces and wanted to scream. But she wouldn't allow herself to do that. She bit her lower lip, hard.

She looked down to Sour Bill. "How—how are there two more Turbos?" she half-whimpered to the green candy.

Despite their situation, the Turbo on the left laughed. "Didja hear that, she thinks we're Turbo."

"Not quite," the other one said with a smile, "though this really aint the time for jokes, is it?"

They definitely didn't have the same _voice _as Turbo, that much was true. So, at the very least, the original was still rotting away in her dungeon and hadn't escaped. That made things ever-so-slightly better.

Wynchel and Duncan hauled the two men up to their feet, and Vanellope got a better look at them. They looked like Turbo, but…not. She didn't spend a long time analyzing the minute details of Turbo's facial bone structure, but she could tell that these two goons were different-looking.

"Who are you?" she said, her voice sounding braver than she actually felt.

"Should we tell her?" Not-Turbo asked the other Not-Turbo.

"I dunno."

"I'm pretty sure the jig is up."

"Looks like it, huh."

"Will ya go easy on us if we spill?" the Not-Turbo on the right asked her.

"Go easy on you?" Vanellope said. Now it was her turn to laugh. "Yeah, right! Not if you were working together with Turbo, I won't." She crossed her arms, inadvertently shining her light in Sour Bill's face. She uncrossed her arms, muttered an apology, and shined it back on her perpetrators.

"You want em in the dungeon, right?" Wynchel said.

"Yeah," Vanellope said, then after a second of thought, added, "Separate cells, though.

The donut cops grabbed a criminal apiece, shoving them into their respective passenger cars attached to their motorcycles. With shaky legs, Vanellope climbed back into her kart, Sour Bill hopping in alongside her.

"So who do you think they really are?" Vanellope said as she drove.

"I haven't a clue," Sour Bill said, "but they look enough like Turbo that they must be from the same game, at least."

"I know…you think they helped Turbo…do what he did?"

"I don't know."

"Me either."

They drove the rest of the way back to the castle in silence.

**{*}**

There was so much commotion that it woke Turbo up from what passed as a good night's sleep those days. He used to stand on his helmet to see out the little window at the top of his cell door, but he opted for one of those peppermint-encrusted chairs instead, The Glitch be damned.

"You could be a _little _gentler," he heard a voice say. Wait a second…that voice…his breath hitched.

"Axel?" he called out.

"Turbo!" two very familiar voices shouted back.

"No talking," Wynchel growled. He popped the dungeon light on, and Turbo could see that it wasn't just Axel, but his other brother, Rally, too. He was happy to see that they were _alive_, but he definitely wished it were under different circumstances.

"How'd they find you?" Turbo yelled, but before they could answer, Wynchel and Duncan had thrown the twins into separate cells, one to Turbo's left, the other to the right.

"We found your friends," Duncan sneered.

"Fuck you," Turbo spat in response.

"You watch it, or we'll see to it that Fix-it aint allowed back down here," Wynchel warned. Turbo narrowed his eyes at them, but he kept his mouth shut. They wouldn't fall back on their word, he knew that.

"Does he mean Fix-it, as in Felix?" Axel piped from his cell.

"Felix comes to see you?" Rally yelled.

"Yes and yes," Turbo called hastily, seeing the agitated expression on the cops' glazed faces. "It's complicated, I'll tell ya later."

Duncan dusted his hands off, like the twin he was just handling was some kind of filth. "Now that that's all taken care of," he said. "Time to go home and get back in the bed."

"You can say that again," Wynchel said, nodding. "We got, what, three hours before the arcade opens? I need some more sleep under my belt."

"The three of you better not be too loud," Duncan said as he headed for the door. "If you wake anybody in this castle up…I don't wanna know what President Vanellope'll decide to do with you."

Wynchel seemed to think that was really funny, laughing as he and Duncan turned off the light and shut the heavy dungeon door behind them with a finalizing _thud_.

Turbo wasted no time starting in again.

"Where were you guys this whole time?"

Axel and Rally took turns filling Turbo in on their lives for the past few months, how it was to live in the Sugar Rush junkyard.

"So I guess your code went back to normal, too," Turbo said, more to himself than to his brothers. He'd seen them with his own eyes, he knew it had.

That was yet another tough decision he'd had to make when revamping the Sugar Rush game code. It had been so tempting to make his brothers fellow racers like him, but doing that would open up a whole other can of worms, in terms of rewriting game binary. So, he'd played it safe, doing some copy-pasting and creating simple candy citizen meshes for his brothers to hide behind.

"Yeah," Rally said. "Good thing we never did go to very many of those Random Roster Races, huh? We woulda been outed in front of everyone."

"One second, we were our gummy candy selves, and the next—not so much," Axel said. "We knew…somethin had happened. So we got the hell out of there."

Turbo nodded, though no one could see him do so. "Makes sense. When The Glitch crossed that finish line…"

He trailed off. He was so _mad_ at himself for not being able to write the code to stop The Glitch from causing a game override, in the extremely unlikely event that she crossed the finish line in a kart of her own. Her doing so would cause a huge shock to the system, and it'd either undo all of his hard work, or crash the game entirely. The former had happened, and he still didn't completely understand why, but there was one glaring certainty: he had failed.

"I guess it set everything back to normal, huh?" Axel said.

"Apparently," Turbo said moodily.

"At least we're alive," Rally, ever the optimistic twin, chimed in.

"For now," Axel said.

"Nah, The Glitch thinks she's some kinda special snowflake, so instead of princess, she's calling herself a President," Turbo seethed. "She won't execute us, if that's what you're thinkin. A life sentence in here, maybe, but she won't kill us."

"Maybe we can get parole," Rally said.

Turbo rolled his eyes, but he was actually smiling, just the tiniest bit. It was such a relief to see his brothers among the living, albeit locked up alongside him, that he couldn't be completely angry.

Very, _very_ angry, yes. But not completely angry.

**{*}**

"Felix, perfect timing," Turbo said, practically breaking the handyman's spine in a bone-crunching embrace. He held Felix out at arm's length. "I haven't slept a wink, I've been thinkin so much, I've got a ton on my mind, I—"

Felix put a gloved finger over Turbo's mouth. That shushed him.

"You're keyed up something awful," Felix said. "Did something happen?"

"Hey, that _is _Felix!"

"You can see 'im?"

"Nah, I can hear 'im, though!"

"Little bro really wasn't lying!"

Felix's eyes widened. Turbo nodded stupidly, as if that explained everything.

"I know you can't—uh—wait," Felix said, detaching himself from the racer's grip. "Just—wait a second."

Felix took a step out into the main dungeon hall. To his left and to his right, two almost-identical faces grinned at him from their cell windows.

"Oh my land," Felix muttered.

"I'm so glad you and Turbs could make amends," Axel said. "Sure, he's a homicidal criminal—"

"—but he's a _loveable _homicidal criminal," Rally finished.

Felix's face was ghostly pale. "Why are you—_how_ did you—"

"Finally get captured?" Rally said. "It was all Axel's fault."

"Don't you even lie, this was _totally _your fault!" Axel yelled back.

"Quieten down," Duncan said, without looking up from his newspaper.

Felix looked back to Turbo. "I thought they were…well, for lack of a better phrase, I thought they were…dead."

Turbo looked at his shoes. "Well, honestly, I had my doubts after I…after everything that happened. Whether they were…still alive, I mean."

Felix looked Axel to Rally, then back behind him to Turbo. He walked back into Turbo's cell, gripping the racer's hands, grinning like an idiot.

"This is great!" Felix said. "You must be so happy to see they're alright, I know I am. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now. Relief, I bet."

Turbo shook his head. "No, ya don't get it, they were better off where they were, in the junkyard, not trapped in _this_ hell hole. They didn't do anything, but surely The—surely Vanellope'll think they were my accomplices." He shook his head again. "They weren't."

"They'll get a fair trial," Felix assured him.

"How, though? How?" He was getting frantic now. "There's no proof. It's my word against everything else. There's no way. There's literally no way to prove they're not…guilty."

If Turbo was the crying type, he might just have to bawl a little right then. But instead he felt a familiar rage grow within him.

Felix seemed to sense this. "Hey, calm down, calm down, it's okay," he said. "I'll talk to her. Or maybe, I'll talk to Ralph, and have Ralph talk to her. Or…something. We'll get this situated, don't worry."

"I'm sure she won't be very eager to do me any favors," Turbo mumbled.

"Then I won't mention you," Felix said. "I'll tell her this is all my idea."

Turbo shut his eyes, sighed. "You trust people too much, y'know that? How do you know I'm not lying? How do you know my brothers aren't as terrible as me, how do you know they don't deserve to be down here?"

Felix looked him in the eye. "I can tell when people aren't being honest," he said brightly. "It's in my code."

Turbo sniffed. There were no tears, but his nose was still running like a faucet. He supposed that was the compensation for not showing open weakness. "Is not," he said.

"Well, it is, too," Felix said. He planted an audible smooch on Turbo's cheek. "Promise me you're not lying and I'll believe you."

The corners of Turbo's mouth twitched, wanting to smile, but being a little too angry to actually do so. "I promise," he said. He knew he sounded like a sap, but he couldn't help it when he was around Felix. He never could.

"See, that wasn't hard at all," Felix said. "Don't you worry, I'll talk to…hmm…somebody about this," he said. "And we'll see what I can do."

"You'd do that?" Axel yelled.

"For us?" Rally called.

"He's just as big a sweetie pie as ever," Axel said.

"Turbo, you better not mess shit up with him this time," Rally said.

Felix honey glowed at the twins' kind words, laughing under his breath.

"I'm seriously trying not to mess shit up with him this time," Turbo called back.

Felix shook his head, grinning. "You just put it out of your mind and stop fretting about it," Felix told him, clapping Turbo on either shoulder. "I'll do my best to take care of it."

He made his way to one of the peppermint chairs and took a seat. "I sort of came down here for a reason," he said.

_Oh, no, _Turbo thought. _Here it comes_. He winced. He sat down on his strawberry wafer bunk across from Felix, heart thundering in his chest.

"I saw Tamora the other day," Felix said. "And boy, was that awkward. You'll love it, though." He laughed.

Turbo breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yes," Felix said, grimacing. "It's not that she's exactly _mad _at each me, but…"

As Felix told his story, Turbo couldn't help but feel the tiniest trickle of relief within him. Felix was a Good Guy, the goodest Good Guy in the whole arcade. His words carried weight and merit. Plus, he was pretty sure The Glitch liked him, since she was best pals with Wreck-it. Maybe…maybe his brothers really would get out of their dungeon cells. If not, well…maybe Felix could negotiate a lesser sentence, or something.

He was kind of lucky, in a twisted way. Occasionally.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter took a little longer to write than the others because I didn't want it to get too serious. In general, I wanted this to be a lighter story, but I think this works, too.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey," Axel said with a shrug, "you tried."

The twins had taken a page from Turbo's metaphorical book and stood on top of their racing helmets to get a good view out the window without straining themselves. They both stared at the sullen handyman, his blue cap in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Felix said, first looking at Rally, then Axel. "I truly am. Don't be miffed at Vanellope, though. I think she _wanted _to believe me, but without any evidence…" he sighed. "I guess there was nothing she could really do. Justifiably, I mean. Suppose I can't blame her."

"It's alright," Rally reassured him. "It's not that bad in here."

"Bettah than the junkyard," Axel agreed.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Felix said.

Rally and Axel exchanged glances. _Kinda_, they seemed to say. But Felix hadn't noticed.

"I'm sure this'll all iron itself out," Rally said. "It always does."

"It does, dunnit?" Axel said.

Felix scratched absently at his arm, at a nonexistent itch. "Oh, but I can tell Turbo's none too happy with me. He's not saying much."

The comment was directed at the twins, but Turbo heard it just the same. When the donut cops saw Felix coming, they went ahead and shackled his ankles and cracked the cell door, because that's always what happened. There was no way they would've known that Felix would come bringing bad news, and that Turbo didn't much feel like talking after he heard it. Turbo looked on at Felix from the doorway, silent.

"He'll get over it," Axel said, glaring at Turbo with his eyebrows raised. "Ya did all ya could. We get it."

"Yeah," Rally said, giving Turbo an equally stern look.

Felix took a step toward Turbo's cell. "Can I…?"

Again, Turbo said nothing, but backed away from the doorway, nudging the cell door open a tad with his foot. Felix exhaled a sigh of relief, stepping inside.

Turbo was just inside the door, arms crossed, but as soon as he had a close look at Felix's sad eyes, he uncrossed them.

"You're making it hard for me to stay mad at you, y'know that?" Turbo said, giving the center of Felix's chest a gentle poke.

"Turbo, I truly did—"

"I know," Turbo said. "I had my hopes, but after I got to thinking about it last night…" He shrugged. "I doubted she'd let em go. I mean, it's like you said. No evidence, or whatever."

Turbo grabbed Felix's hat out of the handyman's grip and situated it atop his own head. With the hat on, he looked bald, his messy mohawk hidden underneath. "And anyway, after hearing what it was like to live in the junkyard, I'm kinda starting to think they _are _better off in here."

He didn't really believe that, but he'd say it for Felix's sake. He didn't have to be a jerk one hundred percent of the time, he guessed. "They said the place is overrun with candy coons."

"So," Felix said, "you're not angry?"

"How can I stay mad at a face like this?" Turbo said, grabbing either side of Felix's face and giving it a squish. "It's impossible."

Felix smiled a little. "Okay…but I can tell you're still mad, you know."

_Damn, he's good_.

"Not at you," he said. "At this whole"—he spread his arms in an arc above his head—"situation. So, kinda…at myself, I guess."

Whoa, where had _that _come from? Felix could make him spill the most intimate details about himself just by looking at him. In a way, he hated that someone else had that level of control over his emotions.

But in Felix's case, he guessed it was worth it.

"You've just got to start looking at the brighter side of things," Felix said. "So you've made a few…mistakes in the past."

Turbo raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, a lot of mistakes," Felix said. "But think about it this way. Now, there's…nowhere to go but up!"

Turbo scoffed, shaking his head. But Felix's smile was contagious, so he grinned. "Only you could look at it like that, I hope you know. Everybody else thinks I'm…"

What? Insane? A monster? An asshole? All of the above?

"Well, let's just say they don't think too highly of me," Turbo said.

"You know, my neighbor Deanna has a saying she's fond of. You wanna hear it?"

"No." Turbo tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn't. The corners of his mouth upturned.

Felix pursed his lips. "Well, you're going to hear it, anyway. 'Time heals all wounds.' And you know what? I believe that."

"I don't think _time'_s gonna fix what I did," Turbo deadpanned.

"It won't _fix _it," Felix said. "You'll have to do a lot of that on your own. But it'll definitely help."

Turbo pulled one of the peppermint-encrusted chairs over to his bunk.

"Here, sit."

He was tired of standing. He sat with his legs crossed on his bunk, knee-to-knee with Felix.

"I don't even know…" he shook his head. "When I get outta here, I don't even know where I'll go. I mean, before _Sugar Rush_, I lived in the power outlet, but that's not a whole lot more fun than this place." He spread his hands to indicate his dungeon cell.

"Well, you'll stay with me, of course," Felix said, smiling warmly, his cheeks hiding half his eyes.

"No, nonono," Turbo said. "I couldn't. Wreck-it wouldn't let me, anyway. I'm sure with a little interior design, the power outlet'll be just fine." He forced a half-smile, but he knew it wasn't convincing.

"Oh, hush," Felix said. "I know you never did come to _Fix-it Felix, Jr. _but a couple times—"

"Three times," Turbo said.

Felix laughed. "I'm not sure if you saw the big field off to the left of my apartment complex in the _three _times you visited, but I made it into two long rows of duplexes. Well, 'duplex' is a term I'm using loosely, it's not so much as two apartments with separate entrances as it is tiny homes that happen to be close together, however, they _do _have a…"

And on he went about construction matters. This used to be a common occurrence. His rambling was actually comforting, since it meant things were finally getting back to how they used to be around each other. Turbo would bore him about cars, and Felix was always so eager to listen, and actually seemed to care a little bit, so Turbo listened as best he could about the complicated floor plans, and how he had to widen all of the dimensions for Ralph's house, et cetera, et cetera. But seeing Felix's face light up was entertainment enough, Turbo thought.

"…and you'd be more than welcome to live in one of those, of course," Felix said, "but I just figured you'd take the spare bedroom in my penthouse?"

He said it as a question, and by the way the handyman was looking at Turbo, he was awaiting an answer. Turbo looked at him with what he hoped was a serious face. But Felix had gotten himself so worked up and excited that it was hard to do that.

"And what would all those Nicelanders think about living in the same apartment complex as a…" He was about to say 'murderer,' but he didn't suppose that was wise. Felix was so happy, why ruin it? "…as me?"

"Oh, they'll be fine with it," Felix said, slapping a hand against Turbo's knee. "And if they're not, then…" He scrunched his lips in thought.

"Then time heals all wounds, right?" Turbo said.

"That's exactly right," Felix nodded. "I'm sure they'll understand."

For a split second, Turbo felt the tiniest ray of hope, but it was quashed as soon as it had risen within him. "Nah, there's no way they'd let me that close to your game's coderoom." He shook his head. "Should be either in your penthouse somewhere or in the basement of your complex, if you didn't know."

"I know, I've seen it," Felix said matter-of-factly. "And I've thought of that, and I've already taken care of it."

Turbo raised both eyebrows. "You have?"

"Of course," Felix said. "I'm not a dummy, I know they would've given me guff about _that_, first thing. So I've sealed it off."

"Sealed it off?" Turbo repeated. "What if ya need to get in there for somethin? Like, you get a virus, or somethin, and someone needs to get in there and fix it?"

"I feel like you're not giving me enough credit," Felix said slyly, shaking his head, though he was smiling all the same. "I know the need might arise to access the coderoom again. So I've—well, let's just say I've made a way for me to get in there, and no one else. I've got it covered."

"You Turbo-proofed it, huh?" Turbo said.

"I did, indeed," Felix said. "Only I can open it, and that's all you need to know about it."

"You don't trust me, huh?"

"Not with that, I don't," Felix said.

_Well, at least he's honest_.

"The less you know, the better it'll be, and the more the Nicelanders—and Ralph—and everyone else, for that matter, will trust you."

Turbo shrugged. "I guess that kinda does make sense. If I don't know, it can't tempt me, right?"

"That's correct," Felix said with a nod. "Anyhow, I don't want you to be worried about everyone else in my game. They'll come around. I know they will."

"Don'tcha think you'll be miserable until they do, though?" Turbo said. "Didn't you say they're like a bunch of moms and dads to you?"

"They really are," Felix said. "And I'm not saying it won't be hard. They'll be plenty sour at me for a while, believe you me," he said, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, "but it's nothing that won't come to pass. I know it'll work itself out."

Suddenly, Turbo laughed. He was bad about doing that out of nowhere when something entered his brain. But that would be nothing new to Felix, he was sure. "We're talking about this like it's gonna happen tomorrow. I don't get outta here for ten years."

"You're eligible for parole," Felix said.

"Yeah, but how long I have to wait _until _I'm eligible has yet to be specified," Turbo said. "And I'm sure that'll be the 12th of never." He scowled.

Felix was silent, but Turbo knew that look on his face. It was his thinking look. Turbo kept quiet, too, waiting for Felix to speak up again.

"Not unless I hurry it along," Felix finally said.

"And how would you do that?" Turbo said. It came out meaner than he'd meant it to, but Felix didn't take any notice, or if he did, he didn't show it.

"Well," Felix said, his trademark smile returning, "when you're on parole, they make you do community service, right?"

Turbo groaned loudly. "I didn't know that. Now I'll _really _never be let outta here on parole, there's no way Vanellope would let me do community service around here."

"It wouldn't have to be around here," Felix said. "I've got a few ideas in mind."

"Like what?"

"I won't tell you yet, I don't want to get your hopes up until I check on a few of my ideas," Felix explained. "But don't you worry." Felix tapped his temple. "I've got some ideas up in my noggin."

Turbo sighed. "Anything would be more exciting than sitting in here twiddling my thumbs."

"Well, like I said, don't get your hopes up yet," Felix said, "because you never know if Vanellope will agree to it, or if she does agree to it, _when _she'll let you do it. But I'll try my best, okay?"

"You sound like a man with a plan," Turbo smirked.

"Hopefully," Felix chimed.

And the conversation spun off to less serious things from there. It was kind of a relief to not talk about prison time, and parole, and living with Felix, and community service, and all that. Turbo doubted any of it would ever happen, but he didn't want to rain on Felix's happy little parade. It was no secret Vanellope hated him, and he hated her, and there was no way she'd ever do something in his favor. In fact, it was on the books that he'd be in here for ten years, but who would question her if it was for longer than that? Only Felix would, and his voice was just one. No one would care. He was pretty sure he'd be here indefinitely. But he couldn't bring himself to tell any of this to Felix, of course. Let him have his happy daydream for as long as he could.

"Wait," Turbo said suddenly, "what did you mean about me living in the _spare _bedroom in your penthouse?" He grinned devilishly. "Are you too good to share yours?"

Felix's face lit up with the honey glows. "Oh, well, to be honest I hadn't thought of it…"

They talked until Wynchel and Duncan made Felix get out. Their shift was ending, they said, they wanted to go home so would he please get the hell out and come back another time. They were just mad because they didn't get their fifth coffee break because they'd had to watch the cell door, Turbo thought.

Felix gave Turbo a soft peck on the lips as he left, saying he couldn't come tomorrow, he had a dinner party to go to, but he'd be back the day after. Felix got two steps out the door before Turbo yelled at him.

"Wait, your hat," Turbo called. He'd been wearing it on his head the whole time, and had forgotten about it until he noticed something amiss about the handyman.

"Keep it," Felix said. "I've got plenty more at home."

Turbo felt his face grow hot. He didn't know why.

And then he was smashed most ungently against the wall by Duncan, as per the norm, but he wasn't feeling it much. He couldn't get Felix's face out of his mind when he mentioned sharing a bedroom with him. He was too bashful. He'd have to fix it.

Pardon the pun.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter seems different from the others somehow. I guess it's got so much dialogue in it, or something. I hope it sounded okay to yall. And I am SO SORRY ABOUT THE ENDING I COULDN'T HELP PUT A KING CANDY-ESQUE PUN IN THERE WHOOPS


End file.
